


Up in an Ivory Tower

by floofboy



Category: Senyuu SQ | Senyuu. (2010), Senyuu. (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Codependency, Discussions of Confinement, Future Fic, M/M, Physical Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Senyuu SQ, Unhealthy Relationships, but some of the fluff turned to smut, this was supposed to be a plotty fic with a heavy side of fluff, well more just dependency
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-10-04 15:55:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 27,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20473646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floofboy/pseuds/floofboy
Summary: Alba isn't sure how he's meant to react when Ros starts getting more and more affectionate around him. When the soldier starts pressing a kiss against his forehead in the morning, when he starts wrapping a hand comfortably around his waist when they're out walking in town. When he smiles at him and tells him he never plans to let him go.His heart tells him to jump for joy.His mind tells him it's a ploy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I should warn that I see SQ Ros as both more possessive and more affectionate than webcomic Ros, mainly because [this](https://mangadex.org/chapter/694814) and [this](https://mangadex.org/chapter/695716) are SQ canon. (Also SQ Ros casually hugs Alba a few blink-and-you'll-miss-it times during SQ, and it's adorable.)
> 
> I was gonna wait to post until I had the whole thing done, but my google docs started crashing on me so I figured it was time to break things up.
> 
> also the smut was an accident, I swear. it probably won't happen again. back to my regular T-rated fics for me once this is done.

Over the years Alba has known Ros, he’s learned to classify Ros’ behaviour around him into two distinct categories.

The first is most familiar. The sadistic soldier, a mainstay since the moment Alba stepped out of that castle with Ros. Though Alba’s gotten a little stronger by now - it’s been over three years since he started his journey, of course he’s stronger! - he still falters against some monsters, as Ros continues to snicker at his troubles. As always, the soldier refuses to save him until the last possible second. 

At least he doesn’t cry as much anymore. 

Naturally, he’s still regularly a victim of Ros’ wooden bat as well, whether it be from softer bonks to the head or the soldier slamming the cursed thing into his stomach when he’s bored.

At least his stomach has gotten tougher. 

(He’s not sure whether these ‘at leasts’ are all that great…)

So Alba is used to being subjected to Ros’ sadistic tendencies, and he admits, deep down, he’s actually pretty fine with that at this point. Being forced to fight the monsters himself _has _made him less useless, he supposes. 

(He’s yet to find a use for getting bonked with the bat though.)

That’s why the other way Ros acts around him still feels so _odd_. 

It’s not bad, he wouldn’t say_. _He likes it more than sadistic Ros, he thinks. It’s just strange, that’s all, and even some months after it starts happening, he’s still not entirely used to it. 

There were hints of it, that first year they spent together, when Rchi was still travelling with them. Occasional moments of kindness that weren’t accompanied by violence. It’s not completely out of nowhere, not when Ros slowly ramps things up over the span of months. 

But his heart still beats faster whenever Ros drapes his hands around him from behind, pressing their cheeks together and murmuring affectionately, “Hero.”

(He wishes the pounding of his heart was from fear.) 

* * *

Alba has always found Ros _attractive. _He was a pretty guy, almost unfairly so. Even that short period of time when Alba liked Ros the least, the couple months right after they left the castle when his only impressions of the soldier were still negative, Alba still sometimes regretted mournfully that he couldn’t stop thinking of Ros as handsome. 

But as the months pass, as he sees through the outer layer of sadism and mockery to see the affection underneath, as resentment makes way for friendship, he pushes those feelings down. He might like Ros now, might be sure that Ros liked him fine as well, but he’d never live it down if Ros ever found out Alba “found him hot.” It would be as mocked as _A hero is everyone’s star of hope!_

It’s easier said than done, though. Despite his best efforts, without his input, his mind drifts to Ros when he gets a private moment alone at night. When they’ve got enough money to splurge to let them each get their own inn room, when he can let his hand reach down into his pants and safely lose himself to fantasy. 

He imagines Ros pushing him down, pressing their lips together. He imagines Ros taking his fill, fucking him into the mattress as Alba writhes helplessly and pants out Ros’ name into the sheets. 

He really has no business judging Mii-chan for his fetishes, because he also fantasizes about Ros flipping him over to sneer at him with an all-too-mocking smirk, spewing insults. 

“You’re useless, but I guess even you had to be good at something, huh, Hero?” Ros would say, thrusting deep into him as Alba lets out a needy moan. Ros would just laugh at the sound, and continue, “But being a good fuck isn’t much good for heroics, y’know.”

He imagines Ros spilling out into him as Alba is still hard and untouched and aching, and imagines him pulling out, leaving his hole empty and dripping. 

“Soldier-“ Alba would whine, too dazed with pleasure to stop himself from reaching out, from clinging tight. 

“What? You still want more?” Ros would say, but he’d look pleased even as his words dripped with venom. “You’re a bit of a slut, hmm, Hero?”

Alba would flush with embarrassment, letting his hands fall back down to his sides. 

“I’ll just do it myself then!” he’d snap defensively, but before he could reach down, his hands would be pinned tight above him. 

“That’s no fun,” Ros would say, smile sunny. “C’mon, Hero, I want to see you beg.”

Alba would squirm, rub his thighs together in a desperate attempt at friction, but Ros would never let him escape so easily. He’d tease, tease, tease, bite at his neck and down his chest, stretch out his used hole with just the bare tips of his fingers, leaving Alba dying to be filled again as well as touched. And so Alba would give in, throw away his pride and beg, but he’d just be faced with a smile that grows brighter and brighter the more desperate he gets. 

Eventually though, Ros would take mercy, once Alba’s begged enough to leave his throat hoarse. Ros always takes mercy eventually, after all. 

“Please...” Alba would say a final time, mind hazy and eyes glassy. 

“Okay,” Ros would say, voice a satisfied purr, then reach down and-

Alba comes into his own hand, a breathy moan of _Soldier _escaping his lips as he does, then flushes red with shame once he returns to reality. 

Yes, forgetting his attraction was easier said than done. 

* * *

More time passes. Rchi returns to the demon world, saying she thinks she might know how to track down her missing father. 

“We’ll help!” Alba says fervently before she leaves, but Rchi just shakes her head. 

“I need to search through gates. Lots of gates,” she explains. “You’d die, both of you, even Ros-san.”

So reluctantly, Alba waves her goodbye, though she still promises to visit from time to time. And she does. 

The world isn’t faced with the threat of destruction anymore, but Ros doesn’t leave his side, and they continue journeying, defeating monsters and doing odd jobs. They don’t talk about stopping, even as more and more heroes put down their swords, as more and more soldiers return to the capital. 

Then they run into Foyfoy once, a year and a half after Elf ends his plans of world domination, and Foyfoy’s surprised. 

“You’re still heroing?” he asks, smiling guilelessly, “I’ve retired. Hime-san got me a job at the castle!” 

“That’s good to hear,” Alba says, genuinely, because Foyfoy has never seemed like he suited fighting. 

“When are you planning to quit?” Foyfoy asks innocently, but it’s a mistake, because Ros slams a hand on the timid hero’s shoulder and _clenches. _

“Hero isn’t quitting anytime soon,” Ros says sweetly as Foyfoy whimpers from the pain. 

“Soldier!” Alba exclaims, tugging uselessly at the soldier’s arm. 

Ros lets go of his own accord a moment later, and Foyfoy immediately jumps back a few paces, the very picture of a spooked woodland animal. 

“I’m sorry!” he babbles, then dashes away. 

With this, and what happened last time, Alba doubts Foyfoy will approach them so casually again, and so he lets out a sigh. He doesn’t know why Ros sees Foyfoy as such a threat. 

“That was mean,” Alba says, disapproving. “And besides-“ he puffs out his chest. “Who’s to say I’m not planning to quit? I _was _thinking it might be nice to start school again- I’m eighteen now, I could go to university-”

There’s a dangerous glint in Ros’ eyes at that, and it’s enough to make Alba quickly backtrack. “-But then again, I always hated school, so.”

The glint fades away to Alba’s relief. 

“That’s right,” Ros says strangely, but then he’s slipping a hand around Alba’s waist, resting his chin on Alba’s shoulder. Alba is too taken aback to comment on it. 

His fingers dig in lightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to make a statement. “You should just stay my toy forever, Hero.”

(It feels nice.)

“If you put it like that I might actually want to go to school now…” Alba mutters contrarily, then pauses. “And couldn’t you just follow me either way?!”

Ros blinks at him at that, face slackening in surprise. A smile slowly spreads across his face. “Is that what you want, Hero?”

“Of course not!” Alba sputters. 

But Ros examines his face and just hums. “Whatever you say, Hero.”

He steps back, and despite himself, Alba feels a little lonely at the loss of contact. 

* * *

The truth is, imagining Ros leaving him for good, imagining parting ways forever, makes Alba’s throat close up and his eyes prick.

He doesn’t want that. He wants Ros with him. 

He wants Ros with him _forever_. 

(He’d even happily stay Ros’ toy forever if it meant they’d stay together, and prays that Ros never finds that out.)

He doesn’t quite connect the dots right away though, doesn’t quite realize - doesn’t quite _admit _\- what’s motivating his desire to clench on and never let go. 

It’s friendship, he tells himself. Or Stockholm syndrome. Or probably both. 

Of all things, it’s Ros getting sick that slams him in the head with the truth behind his feelings. 

* * *

It’s nothing major. Just a summer cold that’s worsened into a slight fever, according to the doctor, but Ros refuses to accept it and pushes himself until he’s bedridden for a week. 

“I don’t _get _sick!” Ros insists, despite all evidence to the contrary. 

Alba is worried about Ros pushing himself long before it goes too far, but Ros doesn’t listen to a word he says about taking a break. 

Luckily, Alba convinces him that they should accept an odd job in town that day, rather than venture out on yet another monster extermination quest. Ros hadn’t wanted to at first, but Alba gets a flash of inspiration and plays up his distaste for the job - painting someone’s fence - and then Ros is raring to go. 

It’s a good thing he does, because the doctor’s office is only a hop and a step away when Ros finally collapses in a street. 

(When had he learned how to manage his soldier?)

He’s there to catch Ros before he falls to the ground, and he can feel Ros is burning hot as he pants weakly against his chest. 

“We’re going to the doctor’s again!” Alba orders, hoisting Ros’ arm around his shoulders to make him easier to support. He’s long since grown to the same height as Ros at least, which lightens the load. 

Worry pricks his chest at how uncharacteristically pliant Ros is. 

“F-fine,” Ros grumbles out, and they stumble their way to the doctor’s. 

To Alba’s relief and Ros’ displeasure, the doctor confirms once more that Ros had a fever, and tells Ros he should stay hydrated and get plenty of sleep. 

This time, Ros listens, however reluctantly, and Alba finds himself being to one to take care of the soldier for once. 

“Do you need me to feed you?” Alba asks as he brings Ros a tray of tomato soup. The soldier is half-sitting on the bed in their inn room, still looking far too sick and tired for Alba’s taste. 

Ros still manages to contort his face into utter revulsion at the idea of being fed. 

“I haven’t fallen that far, Hero.” he sneers, picking up the spoon. 

The spoon clatters back onto the tray. 

There’s a moment of awkward silence as both of them stare at the spoon. 

Finally, Alba coughs, and retrieves it. “Soldier…”

Ros growls, blankets crinkling under his grip. 

“I won’t forget this when I’m better,” he threatens, but Alba just sighs. 

“Yes, I know,” says Alba with morbid acceptance, then scoops up a spoonful of the soup. 

After giving it a few good blows to cool it. he moves the spoon towards Ros, and the soldier, still scowling, clamps his mouth around it and swallows. 

Alba slips the spoon back out easily enough, but finds himself staring, as Ros’ pink tongue flicks out to lick his lips. 

“What are you looking at, Hero?” asks Ros coldly, and Alba jolts. 

“No-nothing!” Alba stammers, and quickly scoops up another spoonful. 

“...Scum.”

Alba’s heart skips a beat. “What?”

“You like seeing me weak, don’t you?” demands Ros with a scowl. 

“I do _not_,” Alba says, and with a matching scowl, thrusts out the spoon towards Ros again. 

The soldier swallows it before continuing to talk. 

“Liar,” he accuses, “You think this is your chance to take revenge, don’t you?”

“I do not,” Alba repeats, exasperated. “If I did, why am I helping you get better?”

Ros falls silent at that, looking put out when he seems to fail to think of a comeback. 

“C’mon, drink your soup,” Alba says, and pushes the spoon towards Ros once again. 

He feeds Ros in silence for a few more spoonfuls before the soldier pipes up again. 

“_Don’t _you want to take revenge?” 

“For what?” Alba asks with a sigh. 

Ros looks at him blankly, sweat beading on his forehead. He looks so sick, so exhausted, and it twinges at Alba’s heart. “For… everything?”

“...Soldier, I would’ve left you a long time ago if I couldn’t forgive you ‘for everything’,” Alba tells him, because it’s the truth. 

“Oh,” Ros says quietly, then smiles. It’s fainter than his usual smiles, but still cheerful enough. “I knew you were a masochi-“

“-I am _not_,” Alba snaps. “Drink your soup.”

With Alba’s help, Ros polishes off the whole bowl, and the soldier looks a little better once he does. 

“It was surprisingly good,” Ros says, then smirks. “Though only an idiot like you would make _tomato soup _for a sick person.”

“We were out of rice, okay?” Alba says with a sigh, not even bothering to comment on the ingratitude. “I couldn’t make rice porridge. And all we had for a soup base was chicken stock or tomato paste.”

“Then wouldn’t you usually fall back to chicken noodle?” Ros says mockingly. 

“You like sweet things,” Alba mutters in slight embarrassment, his eyes flicking to the ground. “So I thought you’d like tomato soup better.”

There’s silence at that, and when Alba looks back up, there’s a new flush to Ros’ cheeks. 

“Are you okay?” Alba asks immediately, worried. “You look red-“

That’s when he gets cut off by a punch to the stomach. It’s weaker than usual though, so it barely makes him flinch. 

“Go away, Hero,” Ros snaps, shoving the tray into Alba’a arms. He flops down onto his pillow, his back facing Alba. 

“If it’s getting worse, maybe we should visit the doctor again-“

A strangled noise. “I promise to tell you if I feel worse, now _go away_.”

“...Okay, Soldier.” Alba backs down. “I’ll be in the room next door if you need me.” 

There’s only a grunt in response. 

* * *

Ros gains back enough strength to eat himself by the next day, to Alba’s disappointment. 

(So maybe it wasn’t completely true that Alba didn’t like seeing Ros weak, but Ros didn’t need to know that.)

It isn’t because he wants revenge. Just the opposite. Alba just likes that he can actually _help _Ros, that he can contribute something to their relationship other than being a source of amusement. He still prefers Ros to be up and cheerful than bedridden and moody. It’s just a rare treat, that’s all, to see Ros vulnerable enough that he’d accept Alba’s help. 

And it’s precisely because of the rare role reversal that his feelings are heightened, not that he notices at first. 

It’s been a couple days since Ros fell sick when Alba pushes open the door to the bedroom and calls out loudly, “Hey, Soldier, I’m…” 

He trails off, going quiet as he notices Ros sleeping soundly on his bed. “...back.”

Alba shrugs and heads for the chair next to the bed. He was going to just read a magazine he bought while he was out shopping, but he gets distracted when he draws near. 

Ros just looks so happy and snug, a faint smile twistng up his lips as his chest slowly rises and falls, blankets tucked up right to his chin. It’s mid-afternoon, so the sunlight is bright against his face, even through closed curtains, and it puts everything into sharp focus. 

He’s never seen Ros like this. Ros always falls asleep after him, and wakes up before him. The soldier was somehow simultaneously a night owl and a morning person, and that meant that Alba had never seen him sleeping so peacefully. 

It’s overwhelming, his chest feels like it’s going to burst, and-

“Ah.” The words spill out quietly from Alba’s mouth, without his input. “I really love you.”

Then Alba freezes. 

* * *

He flees back to the kitchen after his revelation, utterly panicking. 

Somehow, he manages to get himself together by dinnertime. It’s a miracle he avoids Ros noticing that something’s wrong. It helps that Ros’ sickness makes a minor comeback that evening, and Ros seems too distracted with that to notice Alba’s awkwardness. 

So Alba safely sorts through his thoughts at night, when he’s trying to sleep on the lumpy old sofa. 

He doesn’t know what to do.

But he comes to the conclusion that it’s all Ros’ fault, and he decides he’ll stick with that explanation. 

Ros was the one to slowly start getting more and more affectionate, was the one to start actually treating Alba’s wounds after he gets hurt. He was the one to hold his hand when they were walking in town, to smile at him so brightly and exclaim, _I won’t ever leave you, Hero!_

The problem is that Ros is sadistic- Alba is used to receiving his affection with a healthy dose of pain. So when Ros began to dote on him normally_, _the contrast made its effect all the more poignant, and the torch Alba held in his heart for Ros blazed up into an unstoppable wildfire. 

_Yes_, he thinks, nodding to himself. It’s Ros’ fault.

(He ignores that his conclusion fails to solve the problem.)

* * *

Ros gets even more affectionate after his bout of sickness. 

When Ros said he’d remember (the humiliation) he went through while he was sick, Alba had fully expected and prepared for new levels of sadism. He even considered buying himself armour that properly covered his stomach, but decided against it when he figured Ros would just find a way. 

(And there wasn’t a point when he was armourless around Ros half the time anyways.)

He definitely didn’t expect Ros to start showering him with more affection. 

“Hero, good morning,” he says one morning, when Alba walks in half-asleep with blurry eyes into the kitchen. 

“‘Morning,” Alba mumbles, and squints at Ros. He’s wearing his apron, and he can smell something good on the stove, so Alba walks towards him, a yawn escaping his mouth. “Are you feeling better?”

“I think I’m good now,” Ros says cheerfully. “I’m making omelettes. What do you want in yours, Hero?”

“Uh, nothing poisonous,” Alba says, his suspicion winning over his sleepiness for a brief moment. He peeks over Ros’ shoulder into the pan, where an omelette is already sizzling. There doesn’t seem to be anything obviously dangerous in that omelette at least, so he figures it’s an opportunity. “Actually, can I just have that one?”

“Okay,” Ros says agreeably. He flips the omelette onto a plate in a few practiced moves, then hands the plate to Alba and presses a kiss against his forehead. “Enjoy, Hero.”

“Thanks,” Alba says blearily. He takes the plate to the table and tucks in. 

He’s halfway through it when he realizes. 

Red shoots up his cheeks. “...Soldier.”

Ros is turning off the stove with a click, another omelette steaming on a plate. 

“Yes, Hero?” Ros says, heading to the table. 

“Just then- you-“

“I?” Ros asks. He settles in the seat next to Alba, then scoots it closer, until their shoulders are brushing together. 

Alba swallows and glances down, cheeks feeling hotter and hotter. 

“You...” Alba tries again. 

Then Ros is leaning in, and there’s another soft brush of lips against his forehead. 

Alba feels like he’s going to burn up. 

“I...?” Ros prompts cheerfully. His eyes are fond, too fond. 

Alba’s throat goes dry, and he can’t speak. 

“You’re so cute,” Ros says affectionately, then turns to his food while Alba chokes. 

_What_. 

* * *

The thing is, Ros has been occasionally affectionate like this for the past few months. Years, really, now that Alba thinks back, remembers little casual touches and hugs that he hadn’t even registered at the time. So it’s not completely out of nowhere, the outpouring of affection. 

But.

But...

It hadn’t been this unadulterated, before. It sets off every red flag Alba has, tells him to watch out, that Ros is up to something. 

The penny never drops though. It’s not like Ros is always affectionate with him- he’s still mocking and sadistic half the time, and switches between caressing Alba’s cheek softly and laughing at him for being useless in the blink of an eye. 

But Alba still worries. 

Worries that Ros is playing the long con, that if Alba whispers _I love you, _Ros will start laughing mockingly and ask sardonically, _You actually took me seriously?_

And then Alba’s heart will shatter into a million pieces, the wound hurting far worse than any beating he’s taken from Ros’ bat. 

He’d rather maintain the illusion than risk its destruction, so he doesn’t say anything, even if his actions speak a thousand words more than his silence. If Alba really wanted to keep his feelings a secret, he shouldn’t lean into Ros’ every touch, shouldn’t oh-so-obediently let the soldier do as he pleases. 

(He tried to at first, when Ros’ clingy affection was ramping up. 

“What do you think you’re doing?!” he snapped in more embarrassment than anything else when Ros pecked his lips for the first time. 

“Do you want me to stop?” asked Ros tone unusually serious as he leaned back, and Alba flushed beet red. 

What an unfair question that was. 

As if he could bear to say no, when he wanted nothing more to kiss him again.)

* * *

Today was a bad day. Most of their supplies were ruined by a bear that ripped through half of it and threw the other half into the river- the only things that survived were their bedrolls and what little they carried themselves. 

And to top it off, he’s been dragged into Ros’ lap when he was meaning to head for his own bedroll. It’s still rolled up on the other side of the campfire, and Alba doesn’t look forwards to unrolling it in the dark. 

But Ros had beckoned him over with a smile, and so he found himself sitting on Ros on the soldier’s bedroll, Ros’ arms wrapped loosely around him. 

“Hey, Hero…” Ros says lowly into his ear, then nuzzles his neck. 

Alba feels a hand sneaking down to lightly caress his thigh, inching closer and closer to-

“I-I wanted to read before going to bed!” Alba blurts out, and tries to scramble out of Ros’ lap. But Ros holds him down tightly, and he gives up on his struggles. 

“A book,” Ros says flatly. 

“They-they came out with a new installment,” Alba babbles, “Of the_Tales of Hero Creasion_. I had it on me when we left camp, so it was safe- I wanted to-“

“_Tales of Hero Creasion?_” Ros complains. “Are you ever going to get over that series? It’s for kids.”

“I like it, okay!” Alba says defensively. “It helps me fall asleep.”

Ros snorts, and Alba feels the air hit his ear. “So it’s boring?”

“No! It’s just… comforting,” mumbles Alba. “Bedtime stories, you know? It was the first book I ever had.”

“Hero, even if you read those books a thousand times, you won’t ever become like Hero Creasion.” A pause. “Ever.”

“You didn’t need to emphasize that part!” Alba complains. “I know!”

“Just making sure,” Ros says sweetly. Alba feels him nuzzle his neck again, and he swallows back a blush. 

“Di-didn’t you read those books as a kid too?” Alba mutters. 

“Mm?” Ros settles down a little, resting his chin lightly on Alba’s shoulder. “I did, but I mostly just laughed at it. I’m sure Rc- my father bought them for me as a joke too.”

“Laughed at Hero Creasion?!” Alba exclaims, a little offended despite himself. Then, reluctantly accepting, he sighs, because this was Ros. “I guess it’s not surprising _you’ve _never had much awe for heroes.”

“Less at Creasion, and more at the contents.” Ros‘ fingers tap out a pattern on Alba’s thigh. “It’s been a thousand years, you really think these stories are accurate at all?”

“It’s based on legends passed down through the centuries,” Alba objects. 

Ros laughs, the sound low and mocking. “Hero, you’re the type to believe a play is totally real when the playwright says it’s ‘based on a true story’, aren’t you?” He snickers. “So naïve…”

“I don’t think they’re completely true! I’m not dumb!” Alba complains, then breaks off into a mumble. “Just you know… broad strokes…” 

A moment of silence. Then a sigh, quiet and appeasing. 

“Well, I suppose some of it is accu- some of it _seems _like it’s accurate, surprisingly,” Ros says reluctantly, “I guess Creasion’s personality is close enough.” Another pause. “By that I mean, if they made it up, they would’ve made him more likeable.”

Alba scowls. “Hero Creasion is plenty likeable!” 

“Urgh, don’t tell me you’re a Creasion fanboy, Hero,” Ros says, voice dripping with disgust. “That’s a major turnoff.”

“...Why would that be a turnoff?” Alba mutters, then louder- “Anyways, I’m not a fanboy though! I just liked him as a kid, same as everyone else…”

“What, you wanted to be just like him?” Ros pokes teasingly at one of Alba’s cheeks with a finger, and Alba pouts. 

“...I actually didn’t,” Alba mumbles. 

The poking stops, Ros’ hand falling back into Alba’s lap. 

“Why not?” Ros asks, and now _he _sounds offended for whatever reason. 

“Don’t laugh,” Alba demands, regardless. 

“Come now, Hero.” He feels Ros press a light kiss to the back of his head, and he squirms in embarrassment. “I’ll definitely laugh, and you know it.”

“Urgh…” Alba groans. “Just… don’t laugh too much, then.”

“No promises!”

Alba doesn’t even need to angle his head back to imagine the sunny smile on Ros’ face. 

He sighs, but gives in, because if he clams up now Ros would just bother him until he spat it out. 

“Well… I didn’t have any friends as a kid, you see?”

“Unsurprising, continue.”

“That hurts!” 

Ros gently runs his hand down Alba’s arm - Alba shivers - as he presses another kiss onto the hero’s hair. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, sounding more amused than apologetic. 

Alba continues anyways, though he scowls a little. “So when I read _The Tale of Hero Creasion _I always kinda felt a connection, since Hero Creasion was always alone too…”

He expects more mockery, so he’s surprised when Ros only says, quietly, “Most would say that he was noble and aloof, not lonely.”

“I was projecting, I bet,” Alba admits. “But either way, that’s why when I was a kid, I never wanted to _be _him.” A shrug. “I just wished we could be friends instead.”

Ros is strangely silent at that, and so Alba coughs awkwardly. “You can laugh now.”

There’s more silence, and now Alba is getting nervous. Surely it wasn’t so embarrassing that even Ros was lost for wor-

Alba chokes as he’s squeezed by a sudden bone-crushing grip. 

“I can’t breathe,” Alba sputters, slapping at Ros’ arms, and Ros, finally, loosens the grip. 

But just as he manages to take in a gulp of air, he’s suddenly shifted around, turned 180 degrees to face Ros head-on, and his mouth goes dry as soon as he sees his soldier’s expression. 

Ros looks utterly besotted. 

“Um?” Alba says, voice going high. He’s rather confused. 

“Alba,” Ros says, voice bleeding affection - Alba’s heart skips a beat - then he’s leaning forwards, pressing their lips together, and his eyes flutter closed despite himself. 

Alba finds his mouth opening obediently as soon he feels Ros’ tongue poke at his lips, and Ros immediately presses in further, his hand threading into Alba’s hair to force them closer, closer still. So he can’t help his hands sneaking up to clench at Ros’ shirt in a tight grip, can’t help the low moan building at the base of his throat. The noises he makes just get swallowed by Ros though, as the soldier flicks his tongue over his own in a pleasing motion. Ros slips his other hand under Alba’s shirt, rubbing circles into the small of his back. 

He can’t breathe, but he doesn’t care. He clenches on tighter, shifts his head a little to give Ros the best access, and the satisfied hum the soldier makes at that spreads an eager haze across his mind. 

Ros tugs at Alba’s hair after a bit though, forcing him back, and with reluctance, Alba lets himself be shifted a few inches. He pants, face feeling all too hot, and gazes back at Ros in a small daze. 

Ros smiles softly, cheeks lightly dusted red. “I love you so much.”

Blood rushes in his ears, and in that moment, it feels like it’s true. 

“Sol-soldier…” Alba stammers out weakly. 

Then, Ros is tugging at Alba’s hair again, this time to the side, and as soon as Alba’s neck is exposed, Ros is leaning back in. Alba lets out an aborted noise as he feels the scrape of teeth and a tongue flicking over his skin. 

In the end though, he just licks his lips and squeezes tighter onto Ros’ clothes. But he can’t help but squirm, his pants starting to feel a little tight. 

Ros gives his neck one last kiss before leaning back, then glances down and smiles, the expression unbearably smug. 

“Hero,” Ros says, sing-songy, and then there’s a hand deftly unbuckling his belts, slipping under his pants. Alba intakes a breath when Ros presses down lightly, and the soldier’s expression just grows more smug. “You’re already hard?”

“Shut up, so are you,” Alba mutters, since it’s hard to miss when he’s still sitting in Ros’ lap. 

“You’re so cute.” Ros presses a quick kiss on his nose, then wraps his hand around Alba’s cock. 

Another sharp breath escapes Alba’s throat, and he spreads his legs apart the best he can, hips grinding down into Ros’ lap. Ros lets out a pleased hum at the sight. 

“Do you want to do it?” Ros asks, now running a thumb over the tip of Alba’s cock, beginning to drip with precum. 

“I…” 

Ros smiles, bright and cheerful. “But we can’t!”

Confusion spreads over Alba’s mind for a second before he remembers. 

The bear today. 

Their supplies were ruined. 

Including condoms and lube. 

“...Y-You tease,” Alba sputters. 

“Now, now,” Ros strokes up and down Alba’s member none-too-gently, and Alba bites his lip. “We can still have fun even if we can’t fuck.”

Ros slips his hand back out from Alba’s pants - a whine escapes Alba’s throat despite himself at the loss of pressure - then pushes Alba down onto the bedroll. With a few deft moves, Alba’s pants are shoved down to his ankles, then slipped off and discarded to the side. 

Alba’s cock pops up into the air, fully hard and straining, and Alba might’ve blushed again if he weren’t too distracted by staring up at Ros. 

(He was so pretty.)

“You always get hard so _easily_, Hero,” Ros drawls as he struggles out of his own pants. Finally, he shakes his leg in annoyance, kicking the unnecessary garment off, and crawls back onto Alba. 

He cups Alba’s cheek, smiling. “You really are so cute.”

Alba’s heart thumps, thumps thumps, and he can’t look away from Ros’ eyes. 

Then Ros is finally grinding down, and a loud moan escapes Alba’s lips as he feels Ros’ cock rub against his own. His hips jerk up, and Ros seems more than happy to meet him halfway, thrusting down again. 

“Ah…” Alba’s eyes squeeze shut. “_Ah…_ Soldier…”

A light nip at his throat, just painful enough to still be pleasurable, and Alba’s eyes flick back open. 

“Ros,” Ros corrects with a smile, then grinds down hard, and it just feels so _good. _

“R-Ros…” Alba whimpers. His hips jerk again. 

“That’s right.” Ros presses a quick kiss against Alba’s mouth as he thrusts against him again. “Well done, Alba.”

The praise, his _name_, is too much coming from Ros. He reaches up and wraps his arms around the soldier, another loud moan escaping his mouth as their cocks rub together again.

He can see Ros looking insufferable at how easily he’s made Alba come apart, but at this point, he doesn’t care. He just wants more. 

“Ros…” Alba whines, thrusting up, “Kiss me…”

Ros immediately stops, hips angled _just high enough _that Alba can’t reach by jerking up. 

“What will you give me for it?” he asks cheerily. 

“You-“

“Come on, Alba-“ Alba’s cock twitches again at the sound of his name “-what will you give me?”

Alba flushes in anger and embarrassment. “Just do it already!”

“I’ll take that to mean ‘anything’,” Ros says sweetly, then leans back in and gives Alba the sloppy kiss he wanted, tongue dipping deep into his mouth. Alba presses up and clenches on tighter, his thoughts growing more hazed by the minute. 

But even as Alba gets more and more dazed from the pleasure coiling in his stomach, as Ros starts to pant a little more, looking as though he’s almost there, Alba still thinks, vaguely, that Ros had been stupid. 

(There was no point in asking for anything when he’d already give him everything.)

It’s that thought, that all-too-devoted thought, that circles through his mind as his vision goes white and his pleasure comes to a head. 

He comes with Ros’ tongue down his throat and cock rubbing against his own, and for that brief moment, he’s so happy he doesn’t know what to do. 

* * *

“Hero,” Ros says, later that night when Alba’s pressed snug against Ros’ chest on the bedroll. “I want a parfait.”

“Now?!” 

“Tomorrow, when we reach the next town,” Ros says brightly. “You said ‘anything’, didn’t you?”

“Ah.” Alba flushes as he remembers. “I didn’t actually say that!”

“It was implied.”

“It was not!” Alba shoots back, but there’s no heat to it. He presses a little closer to Ros, the warmth so lovely, and mumbles, “But well, I’ll treat you a parfait whenever.”

“Every day then?” Ros asks, voice innocent. 

“I don’t think our finances can take the hit _that _often,” Alba says flatly. 

A snort. “‘Finances’, says the hero who can barely manage a slime extermination quest.”

“I-I’m getting better!” objects Alba. 

Alba expects more mocking, but instead, Ros just gives him a soft smile. 

“You are,” he says, and Alba can’t help his face getting red. 

“Good night!” Alba blurts out. He quickly shuffles himself around, so he’s facing away from Ros a little further apart. 

He’s immediately shoved right back close. 

“Good night,” whispers Ros into his ear, arms wrapped tight around him. 

He can hear his heart beating, too fast, too fast. 

(It takes him a while to get to sleep.)

* * *

The town they’re heading to next is a fairly large one, which is a blessing considering how much they need to restock. 

They’ve generally settled into a standard procedure for when they arrive in a new town. Alba goes to check out the quest board, Ros goes to check out the inns, then they reconvene to make decisions and buy supplies. 

That day, as they arrived in town during mid-morning, they’ve reconvened in a café for lunch. They’re sitting in one of the outside tables, where the crowds on the street hustle and bustle only a stone’s throw next to them. 

“There’s a lot of quests on the board, and from what I got from talking to a couple soldiers, they get updated pretty regularly,” Alba says. “We can probably base ourselves here for a month or two at least.”

“Then we want a long stay inn, with kitchen use included,” Ros muses. “There’s two of those in this town- we can check them out later.”

“Sounds good. Did you see any stores we could use for supplies?”

“Oh yes,” says Ros, and the smirk on his face makes Alba instantly regret the question. “I saw a shop selling adult go-“

Alba stands up with a clatter, shoves his hands over Ros’ mouth from across the table. 

“Wh-wh-what do you think you’re saying in a public place?” he hisses. 

Ros tugs Alba’s arms back down and rolls his eyes. “Oh, calm down, Hero.” A bright smile. “It’s not like I was gonna say cond-“

Alba lets out an unintelligible noise and shoves his hands over Ros’ mouth again. 

Ros eyes Alba, unamused, and then there’s a tongue flicking at the palm of Alba’s hand. With a sputter, Alba jumps back. 

“...Condom,” Ros enunciates precisely. 

Alba flops back in his seat with a groan, giving up and giving in. “What are you, a kid?! Saying dirty words isn’t funny!”

“What are you saying, Hero?” Ros grins. “Anything that makes you uncomfortable is funny!”

“Urgh…”

“But I see…” and now, there’s a look of pure disgust on Ros’ face. “So you saw me as a child, Hero… you really are scum, aren’t you? Doing this and that with someone you think of as a kid…”

Alba sputters. “I don’t- _you’re older than me_.”

Ros lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I always knew you were a pervert and a criminal… but I didn’t realize it was in this way…”

“I’m neither!”

“It’s okay, Hero,” says Ros, cupping his hand over Alba’s in a gentle hold. “So long as you only ever take those desires out on me, everything will be okay.”

“So you’re just staking your claim again?!” Alba snaps.

“Tee hee.”

“Don’t ‘tee hee’ me!”

Ros smiles, smug. “Tee h-“

“-Sii-tan?”

The hand cupping Alba’s hand suddenly tightens into a vice hard grip, and Alba winces. 

“Soldier? What’s…” Alba follows Ros’ suddenly ice-cold gaze, “...wrong?”

There’s a man walking towards them from the street, long black hair tied back in a loose ponytail. His white lab coat scrapes against the ground, his hand rising in a friendly greeting. 

And Ros looks coolly furious. 

_Sii-tan, _Alba thinks the man said. He remembers that nickname. It’s what Crea calls Ros. A shortening of _Sion_, what Lake calls him. 

Ros’ old name. 

Alba doesn’t know why Ros chooses to go by Ros now, and he hasn’t asked. But if this man called Ros _Sii-tan_, then that means he’s a person from Ros’ past, just like Crea and Lake. 

“Soldier,” Alba repeats gently, tugging his hand out of Ros’ clenched grip. 

“Ah,” Ros says dully, breaking his glare to glance at the table for a brief moment. “Sorry, Hero.”

“You call him Hero?” 

The voice is low and amused, and Alba looks up. 

The man has reached their table. 

“What are _you _doing here?” Ros demands, as chilly as the morning frost. 

“You don’t have to be so mea-a-an,” whines the man. “Lake asked me to come. He knew I could track you through-” The man glances at Alba and frowns. “He knew I could track you.”

“The idiot?” Ros sneers. “And why would you say yes?”

“Well.” mumbles the man weakly. He glances to the ground, fingers poking together in a show of timidness. Alba feels a little sorry for him. “It’s been so many years, I thought you might be over it…”

“‘Over it’,” Ros repeats, incredulously. Through gritted teeth, he continues, “Like it was some teenage rebellion thing. I won’t _ever _get ‘over it’. Consider it your saving grace that I’m even letting you _be_.” He makes a shooing motion. “Go away, before I change my mind.”

The man sinks into himself, and Alba’s sympathy rises. 

“Wait, Ros,” Alba cuts in. He glances between the two of them. “I don’t know what happened between you guys, but if Lake-san sent him, maybe we should listen to what he has to say at least?”

“Don’t comment on things you don’t understand, Hero,” Ros snaps, and Alba flinches at the genuine anger in the voice. 

He curls in on himself and mumbles, “Sorry…”

There’s a flash of dismay over Ros’ face. 

“Hero,” Ros starts, more gently. 

“-That’s right!” the man sticks out his tongue, actually _sticks out his tongue, _and Alba stares incredulously. “This is a family affair. You should step aside.” Now the man is the one making a shooing motion. 

“_Excuse me?_” hisses Ros, face stormy, and the man lets out a squeak. “What makes you think you can speak to Hero in that way? Apologize now.”

There’s an awkward pause. 

“...Um, sorry,” the man says weakly. 

Ros just sneers at him. 

It’s then that a waiter finally comes to check in on the ruckus, speeding towards them from the café interior. 

“Um,” he says awkwardly, “Will that guest be joining you today?”

“No,” says Ros coldly, as the man simultaneously says, “Yes.”

The waiter glances between them, obviously troubled, and so Alba steps in. 

“Could you grab us another chair?” he asks politely, and the waiter, looking relieved, nods. 

“Hero-“ Ros objects. 

“We’ll listen to what he has to say, and then we can forget about him for all of eternity if that’s what you want,” Alba says firmly. “I’m sure it’ll be the fastest way to get rid of him.”

Ros scowls, but acquiesces. 

* * *

“Lake is getting married,” the man says once he’s sat down. 

Ros looks displeased. “Don’t tell me to the other idiot?” 

“Lake thought you’d say that, so he gave me a cue card for it.” the man ruffles around in a pocket, then retrieves a few somewhat crumpled pieces of paper. He shuffles through them. “Let’s see… ah, here it is.” He coughs once, then recites- “_You’re always calling _me _an idiot, so that just means we’re a good match._”

“Nii-san doesn’t pretend he’s _not _an idiot,” Ros grumbles, “The other idiot, on the other hand…”

“Ah, Lake gave me a cue card for that too.” He shuffles through the paper again before reciting- “_You have no ground to stand on when it comes to liking ‘idiots’._”

Ros glances at Alba. Alba blinks at him in confusion. Pink dotting his cheeks, Ros glances back away and clicks his tongue in irritation. 

“Whatever,” he mutters, “When’s the wedding?”

“In three months,” the man says, and slides over two postcards to Ros. From a glance, they look like standard wedding invitations. “Lake said to give you a plus one.” 

“No need, because we’re not going,” Ros says coolly. He pushes the postcards back. 

The man sighs and nudges the cards forward again. “Sii-tan, are you going to take out your anger on even Lake?” The man looks solemn. “He doesn’t know anything. You know that.”

“...Fine,” Ros grits out. “I’ll think about it.”

“RSVP by the end of next month if you’re coming,” says the man, then stands up, chair scraping back. “I won’t bother you any longer.”

“Good,” Ros says curtly. 

“Ah, but one last thing.” the man breaks out into a wide, smug grin. “Sii-tan, you finally have someone you like?” He chuckles. “Come introduce her to me and your mother sometime… your mother wants to know more about your life, you know?”

Alba freezes. 

It feels as though a glacier was dropped into his stomach, and none-too-gently to boot. 

_Ah, _he thinks numbly, as Ros stands up, face beet red, and punches the man out into the street. _Ros has a girl he likes. _

“Sorry about all that, Hero.”

Of course he does. Alba knew it was all a joke to Ros. He knew it.

“Hero?”

He still really wants to cry. 

“Hero!” 

There’s a harsh bonk on his head, and Alba lets out a yelp. 

He glances up mournfully to see Ros scowling down at him. 

“Wh-what was that for?” Alba complains. 

“You weren’t responding,” Ros says flatly. His scowl lightens into a small frown. “Are you okay, Hero?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine,” Alba blurts out. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Ros’ frown doesn’t disappear at that, and he opens his mouth-

But Alba is saved by a harried waiter announcing the arrival of their food. 

* * *

They finish their meal in mostly silence and head out on the street to go find supplies before Ros finally loses his patience. 

“Hero, what’s _wrong?_” he snaps irritably. 

Alba jumps.

“Nothing,” Alba mumbles, walking a little faster so he wouldn’t have to see Ros’ face. “It’s just… um…” He swallows, then babbles out- “You have someone you like, huh?”

“...Obviously,” is Ros’ only answer, flat and unamused. “What’s your point?”

Alba frowns at that, but forages forwards. “I was just- wondering. Who it was.”

There’s a long, long silence at that, and Alba resists the urge to glance back. 

Then there’s a hand clenching his arm, too tightly, and Alba is forced to a halt. 

Alba finally glances back. “Uh, Soldier?”

Incredulity. Disbelief. 

Those are the only emotions on Ros’ face at that moment, and Alba blinks in confusion. A strangled noise escapes Ros’ throat, then he’s dragging Alba through the crowd and off to the side, into a small gap between buildings. 

“Soldier, what-“

He’s pushed against the brick wall with a rough thump, hand slamming next to his ear. 

Alba’s confusion rises. 

“Hero,” Ros says finally, leaning in close enough Alba can’t hope to avoid Ros’ gaze. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Should I know her?” Alba snaps defensively, puffing up. 

Ros lets out another strangled noise. “Is this because my shitty dad said it was a girl?” He rolls his eyes. “He just made his own assumptions. Probably because him and Cecily want grandkids.”

(So the man had been Ros’ dad.)

The cold lump in Alba’s stomach starts to melt away. 

“Is it… then, um...” Alba says hesitantly, hopefully. “Me?”

“Yes, Hero, good job,” Ros says, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Did you get that from how I’ve been telling you that I love you _every day_ for the past _year_?”

Alba flushes, and tries to defend himself. “But I mean… you… you mess with me a lot…”

Ros looks ready to scream, or punch someone, and Alba wishes he could escape. 

“Hero, what did you think our relationship _was?_”

“...I mean, I hoped, but… I knew we were friends at least?” Alba suggests tentatively, and immediately regrets it as a heel slams into his foot. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve done anything you did with me with others,” Ros says lowly, heel grinding, grinding. 

“No! I- only you.” Alba says, and appeased, Ros’ foot stops grinding. “I wouldn’t do all that with anyone I didn’t like, I just-“ Alba swallows. “I wasn’t sure.”

A loud, gusty sigh, and Alba is scooped away from the wall and into Ros’ arms. One of Ros’ hands snakes up, threads through Alba’s hair and strokes his head. 

(Alba’s pulse rises.)

“Hero, what do I need to do to make you ‘sure’?” Ros’ other hand clenches against Alba’s hip too tightly, and Alba swallows. 

(This could be bad.)

“I’m sure now, okay!” Alba blusters. 

But Alba can’t help his gaze flicking downwards. 

“Are you?” Ros demands, and then he’s tugging at Alba’s hair none-too-gently, forcing his gaze back towards him. 

Ros’ expression is dark, dangerous, and again, Alba swallows nervously, his mouth feeling all too dry. 

“...Yeah.”

“So, what,” Ros continues coolly, “You thought all this time that we weren’t together? That you weren’t mine?”

“I thought you weren’t _mine,_” Alba corrects carefully. “But I was always yours.”

Ros blinks at him, surprise flickering over his face for a moment. Then he settles into a wide, satisfied smile. 

“I see…” Ros says, tone growing cheerier. “I see, I see.” His hand begins stroking Alba’s hair again, lightly, lightly. “You’re such an idiot, Hero. Of course I’m yours too.”

It’s a pure shot of dopamine, hearing those words from Ros’ mouth. Alba can’t help but smile a little. 

“But I see…” continues Ros, “That makes sense. I was worried, but… if that’s what you thought, then everything is still fine.” He leans forwards, presses a quick kiss against Alba’s lips. 

“...Soldier?” Alba says hesitantly. 

Ros gives him the brightest smile he’s ever seen him wear, and says, just as brightly- “I was worried I’d need to lock you away, after all.”

“Um?”

“Somewhere safe, where no one could get at you but me,” Ros muses, pulling Alba closer against him again. “Where you couldn’t get at anyone but me.”

This wasn’t good. 

Pressed tight against Ros’ chest, Alba swallows nervously yet again. 

Alba has seen Ros get in this kind of mood once before. Poor Foyfoy had been the one to bear the brunt of it, though he really should’ve known better than to copy Ros and jab at Alba playfully. But he hadn’t known better, and for some days after that, _nobody _could get in touch with Foyfoy. 

If Alba had known what was going on at the time, he would’ve at least _tried _to save Foyfoy. But all he had known was that Ros started disappearing for some hours each day, and in exchange, when he was back, he was overly possessive and twice as clingy. It was more bothersome than anything else. 

(Bothersome, because if Ros’ dark mood had lasted much longer, Alba might have just given in to everything Ros asked for. 

Because even if he couldn’t believe in Ros’ professed love, even if he was too scared to, he could still easily believe in Ros wanting to keep his amusing little toy all to himself. 

Forever. 

And so a thought crossed his mind once or twice or thrice- wouldn’t that be happiness of a sort?)

Alba still doesn’t know what Ros did to the other hero, but he does know that since the incident, Foyfoy has always maintained a careful distance between him and Alba. 

So he needs to tread carefully. 

“Ros,” Alba says, bringing a hand up to cup Ros’ cheek. Ros zeroes in on him, but he refuses to be unnerved by the unflinching gaze. If he did, he would lose, and give in. 

(It doesn’t help that some parts of him still _want _to give in. To give Ros everything he wants, in the hopes that Ros would never let go in return. 

It’s easier to shut those desires up now, right after Ros has professed himself _his_, but the echoes remain.)

“Hero.”

“You don’t have to do anything like that to keep me here,” Alba says steadily. 

“Don’t I?” Ros echoes mildly. 

“Didn’t you just say that?” Alba points out. 

There’s a pause, then Ros finally lets go of Alba, lets his arms fall by his side. 

It’s a trap, Alba is sure. A test. Alba doesn’t even bother to move. 

“See?” Alba says, and wraps his arms around Ros. “It’s fine.”

“...I suppose so,” Ros says reluctantly. 

“Should we go back to buying supplies?” Alba suggests. 

“Alright.” Ros tugs at one of Alba’s arms, and Alba, obediently, lets go and steps back. 

Then a hand is slipped into his hand. 

“Let’s go then,” Ros says with a snort, and Alba smiles. 

* * *

That night, his hair still wet from his shower, Alba sits on the inn bed in only his boxers and asks Ros, “What happened with you and your father?”

“Mm?” Ros is drying off his hair with a towel, having just left his own shower. The towel is discarded off on a chair before Ros asks back, expression unreadable- “Do you really want to know?”

“Not if you don’t want to tell me, I guess,” Alba says, looking down. Then he feels Ros plop down next to him, and he pauses, glancing back. He sputters, “Wait, put your underpants on at least!”

“Huh? Are you stupid, Hero?” Ros’ voice is dripping with derision, expression mocking. “There’s no point when I’d just take them off right after.” Ros flicks his gaze up and down Alba’s body before smirking. “Or what, Hero, did you just forget to put on your pajamas?”

Alba feels his face heat up. 

“Well, you know,” he mumbles, “It’s kinda hot right now…”

“Of course,” Ros says, in a tone of voice that makes Alba think he means the opposite. But in the end, Ros doesn’t make any more comments- he just runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “About my father…”

“Yeah?”

“I want to tell you,” Ros admits. “I’ve wanted to tell you everything for awhile, it’s just…” A look of pure disgust spreads over his face. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

Alba frowns at that. 

“Try me,” he urges. 

“No, you definitely wouldn’t believe me.” Ros shakes his head, look of disgust not dissipating. “You’d probably _laugh _at me. Laughed at. By _you_. Disgusting.” He shudders. “I’m not telling you.”

Alba sighs. “Why are you so sure I won’t believe you anyways?”

“Because I can’t prove it, not anymore.” Ros stares down at his hands, then clenches them. Under his breath, he mumbles, “I even get sick now…”

Alba frowns again. What was that?

“Still-” Alba tries.

“Stop being so pushy, Hero,” Ros says with annoyance, but then Alba’s the one getting pushed. Down onto the bed.

Ros presses insistently against his mouth, and Alba isn’t about to deny him this at least. He lets his mouth open and Ros slips in, harsh and forceful. 

It feels good. It feels really good, and Alba wants to just lose himself in it, but...

“Mmph…” Alba pushes against Ros’ chest, and Ros, looking displeased, breaks them apart. 

...he doesn’t want to let Ros shut him up with a kiss. 

“What?” Ros says shortly. 

“Soldier… I’m not gonna lie and say I don’t care about your past.” Alba’s hands trail over Ros’ chest, trace over the far-too-many scars marring the soldier’s skin. “But whatever the reason, if you don’t want to tell me, I really am fine with that, okay?” Alba smiles up at him. “Because you’re still you either way.”

Ros just snorts and flicks him on the forehead, hard. 

“Ouch!”

“Saying such nauseatingly cliché lines won't make me tell you,” Ros informs him primly. 

Alba frowns unhappily. “That wasn’t what I was trying to-“

He’s cut off by a quick kiss, just enough for Ros to slip his tongue in before he’s leaning back. 

“Yes, yes, I know, Hero,” Ros drawls. “You don’t have enough guile for that kind of manipulation.”

“What makes you say I don’t!”

“The fact you just asked that question,” Ros says, tone flat. He sighs. “I will tell you. Maybe if Rchi comes to visit. Just-“ Ros’ hand flits down to rest on Alba’s chest. “-not now.”

“Alright,” says Alba, quiet. 

“More importantly,” Ros says, and squeezes a nipple tight. Alba lets out a cry at the sudden jolt of pain. 

Ros smiles, face dark. “You need to learn not to doubt my love, don’t you?”

His cock perks up at that, but Alba prays it into submission. 

“Um,” Alba says weakly, “I don’t think this is the best way to-“

Ros squeezes again, and another cry escapes Alba’s mouth, this one a little more high and breathy, despite his best efforts. 

“I think it’s an excellent way,” Ros says sweetly, and Alba resigns himself to his fate. 

* * *

“He-ro,” sings Ros into his ear from behind. “How are you feeling?”

Ros pushes into Alba again, Alba’s knees pressing into the mattress and wrists tugging at his restraints as he does. A hoarse moan escapes his throat. 

“C’mon, Hero.” Ros reaches around, gives Alba’s cock a gentle stroke. Alba thrusts up into the pressure by instinct, as useless as the action is. Ros continues, “Is it good?”

Alba can easily imagine the smug smile playing at Ros’ lips as the soldier leans down and whispers in his ear, “Do you want to come?”

He can feel Ros play with the ring at the base of his cock, teasingly loosening it up only to push it back down immediately after. 

“Please…” Alba begs, arms tugging against his restraints again. 

It’s just the scarf, the stupid red scarf, but he’d be too weak to rip it apart even normally, let alone when he’s dazed and desperate to come. So his hands remain tied above him, pressed against the bed frame. 

“Hmm…” Ros drawls, voice considering, and Alba wants to cry from the frustration. But then Ros thrusts into him again, deep inside, cock pressing right against his prostate, and the only tears at his eyes are from the pleasure.

Ros lets his hand flit down Alba’s back lightly, too lightly. 

“Ah,” he says brightly. “I just got a good idea.”

That statement, coming from Ros in this situation, is as far from reassuring as can be. 

“Wha- _ah_…” Alba trails off into a moan, Ros rocking up into him before he can even finish a word. 

Then there’s teeth biting sharp into his shoulder, and his whole body clenches at the sensation. 

“There we go,” murmurs Ros, smug. “You always tighten up so nicely at pain.”

He starts thrusting into Alba in earnest after that, and so coherent thoughts are no longer an option. There’s only a harsh mix of pleasure and pain, as Ros bites into him and trails his nails, sharp, against his skin. 

Alba’s throat grows hoarser, but his mind is too hazy for him to hold back his moans and cries, not when Ros hits just that spot in him as he scratches a line down Alba’s back. He jerks his hips back, trying to get more, get closer, and he can hear Ros’ pants get rougher as he does. 

“You’re… so perfect,” Ros breathes, chest pressing against Alba’s back as he pushes in again, and it’s so good, too good. 

Alba’s hands clench tight, a reedy breath escaping his mouth. Desperate for more, Alba rocks his hips back, and Ros shudders against him in response. 

The cock buried in Alba twitches, and then he feels something wet spilling out inside of him. Ros thrusts in, once, twice more, then he pulls out in one swift move, rubbing by Alba’s prostrate, and it’a enough. Alba’s vision goes black, and the pleasure rips through his body even as his own cock twitches uselessly, the ring preventing him from coming for real. Hazily, he feels his mouth open, a breathy cry escaping it as the orgasm fades away. 

There’s nothing but the sound of their pants for a few moments, then-

“That won’t do, Hero,” says Ros, voice still a little unsteady, but tone clearly chiding. “You came dry, didn’t you?”

An arm reaches around, traces circles on Alba’s stomach, right above where his cock is still rock hard, straining to be released. 

“I-I didn’t-“

“And now you’re lying?” A tongue clicks. “C’mon, Hero.”

A finger lightly traces down the length of his cock, and Alba whimpers. 

“I’m sorry,” Alba pants out. 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“I’m sorry, Soldi- _ah_.” His thigh is pinched with sharp fingernails, and then he remembers. “I-I’m sorry, Ros.”

“Apologizing is a good step.” Ros hums, retracts his hand from Alba’s cock to the hero’s dismay, then moves his hands towards Alba’s restraints. “I’m going to retie your restraints.”

It’s not an order, but pleasure-addled or not, Alba can read between the lines. He’s obediently pliant as Ros unties him from the bedframe, reties his hands together behind his back. 

He feels Ros press a kiss on his neck once he’s done. 

“Well done,” he praises, and a dazed smile spreads over Alba’s face at the words. 

Ros shuffles around until his back is leaning against the bedframe, then flips Alba over and perches him in his lap, hand gripping his hip tight to hold him steady. 

He ends up looking down at Ros from this position, and it’s an odd feeling. 

It’s less odd once Ros threads his other hand into Alba’s hair and pushes him down into a long, sloppy kiss. 

Normally, he’d be more than happy to enjoy Ros’ tongue in his mouth, but his hole is still dripping and his cock is still aching. He squirms, and he knows Ros feels it, because Ros smiles against his lips and draws out the kiss even longer. 

Ros’ hand slips down to lightly hold Alba’s chin when he finally draws back. A finger caresses that sensitive area, high on his neck, and Alba leans into the touch. 

“Do you still want to come?” Ros asks sweetly. The grip on his chin tightens, forcing him to stare into Ros’ eyes, but he would’ve either way. 

Alba licks his lips, his mouth still a little dry, and mumbles, hesitantly, “Yes, please.”

Ros smiles brightly. “Beg me on your hands and knees, and I’ll let you.”

Most of his post-orgasm daze dissipates at that. 

“You-“ Alba sputters. “You really have bad taste.”

(His cock is as excited as ever though. Traitor.)

“Is it bad taste to want your lover on his knees?” Ros asks innocently, and Alba blushes. 

“It’s bad taste to make your lover beg you for release right after you fucked them into oblivion!”

“Huh…” A sharp smirk spreads on Ros’ face, and Alba immediately regrets saying anything. “So it was that good?”

Alba’s face gets hotter, and, the motion automatic, he tries to glance away. But Ros keeps his head in place with a tight grip. 

With no other choice, he meets Ros’ eyes and mumbles, embarrassed, “Of course it was good.”

The smirk melts into a fond smile, and the hand on his chin moves to cup his cheek. 

“You’re so cute,” Ros says, as always. He pecks Alba’s nose with a kiss. “I love you.”

“I-I do too, but-“ Alba scowls. “If you love me, then stop _teasing!_”

“Don’t pout,” says Ros, amused. 

“I’m not pouting!”

“You are, and it’s still cute.” Ros presses another kiss against his nose. “You seem to be forgetting something, Hero.”

“...What?” Alba asks suspiciously. 

Ros’ eyes light up. “The more troubled you are, the more it turns me on.”

“Bad taste,” says Alba, tone accusatory. 

“That just makes your taste worse, Hero.” Ros smiles even more brightly. “Since you’re the one in love with me.” Ros brushes a strand of hair away from Alba’s face, tucks it behind an ear. “And the one who’s about to do just what I ask you to.”

“...you better let me come after this.”

“Yes yes, of course,” Ros says dismissively. 

“Are you going to untie me?” Alba asks. 

“Now why would I do something like that?” says Ros cheerfully, and Alba groans. 

“Fine,” he mumbles, and shimmies off of Ros’ lap with some effort, the soldier loosening his grip to let him. 

It takes some awkward maneuvering, but he manages to get himself on his knees in front of Ros. He bends down, and bites back a moan as his cock is rubbed between his stomach and the mattress. 

“Pl-please let me come, Ros,” Alba bites out rebelliously, his cheeks burning bright red. 

A hand lightly caresses his face, and Alba looks up. 

Ros looks so happy, and ah, this is why he couldn’t say no, despite the embarrassment, the humiliation. 

“Why should I let you come?” Ros asks, voice cheery. 

Alba pauses for a moment, considering. Here, Ros probably wanted-

“Because you love me.”

“And?” Ros prods. 

Alba swallows, face getting hotter. “And I love you.”

“That’s right.” Ros smiles. “Do you promise not to forget that anymore?”

“I-I promise.”

Ros presses a kiss against his forehead. 

“Good,” he says, then with his hands on Alba’s shoulders, pushes the hero down onto his back. 

Then he leans down between Alba’s legs. 

“Wa-wait, Ros-?!” 

In one swift move, Ros swallows him down fully, and Alba can’t help the broken moan that escapes his mouth at the sensation. He feels teeth nipping, Ros dragging the ring off with his mouth, and _oh, _this was bad. 

“Ros, I’m going to-“

Ros spits out the ring onto the mattress. 

“Yes, feel free,” Ros says cheerily, then his mouth is swallowing Alba’s cock once more. 

It’s too much, now that he’s finally been freed. Alba feels the pressure building up to its limit below, and then he’s jerking up into that soft, warm mouth, vision going hazy as he spills out. 

He slumps down, boneless, and he hears Ros come off his cock with a pop. 

“That was a lot,” Ros says, gagging a little. “You should try to come less.”

Alba is too sated to make any kind of retort. 

“Mm,” he mumbles instead. 

An amused chuckle, and then he’s being dragged up, pressed into Ros’ chest with their heads on soft pillows. 

“You look tired, Hero,” Ros comments. “Clean up tomorrow?”

“Mm.”

“Do you want me to untie you?”

Alba just nuzzles into Ros’ neck. “Mm.”

“Tomorrow, then,” Ros says, voice still amused. He feels himself getting pushed back a little, lips pressing against his forehead. “Good night, Hero.”

“Night,” Alba mumbles, and after that it’s not long before he starts to doze off. 

* * *

“Everything aches,” Alba grumbles from his seat at the breakfast table. 

“You need to train harder,” Ros says cheerily. He’s busy stirring a pot, back turned to the hero.

“I don’t think this is something I can train?!” sputters Alba. 

Ros brings the ladle up to his mouth and hums. 

“I’ll be happy to show you different,” Ros says mildly, reaching forwards to turn the heat off the stove. 

An embarrassed flush rises up onto Alba’s cheeks. 

“I-I’m fine,” he snaps. 

Ros glances back and smiles, the expression all too smug. “If you’re sure.”

“I am!”

“Whatever you say.” Ros snorts, and Alba’s hackles rise. 

He scowls as Ros brings over the trays of food - rice, miso soup, a couple simple side dishes - refusing to lighten his expression even as he sees Ros made them rolled egg omelettes that morning. 

He knows Ros knows it’s his favourite food. The soldier is really trying to butter him up this morning. 

Alba takes a bite of the omelette, and it’s perfectly cooked, light and just faintly sweet. 

His expression softens despite himself. 

(...He might just let himself be buttered up.)

A hand slides around him, gently caresses his hip. 

“How does it taste, Hero?” Ros prods. 

“...I’m still mad at you for leaving me tied up.”

Ros smiles. “Okay.”

“_And _for taking the shower first this morning,” Alba continues. 

“Okay.”

Alba takes another bite of the omelette, then mumbles, “Your food is always good though.” He pauses for a moment before quickly clarifying- “When you aren’t poisoning it!”

Ros presses their cheeks together, nuzzling, and Alba reddens deeper. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” Ros says fondly. 

But Alba just swats at the soldier. “Neither of us can eat if you’re draped all over me.”

With clear reluctance, Ros draws back. “Okay, okay.” A smile. “You should have the soup too.”

Suspicion narrows Alba’s eyes. “Why…?”

“I want you to drink the miso soup I make every morning!”

It’s a good thing he _hadn’t _been drinking the soup at that moment, because Alba chokes on air. 

“I-I already eat your breakfast every day anyways,” Alba hedges. With a cough to clear his throat, he reaches out to grab the bowl, sip lightly at the soup. 

“Oh, Hero, don't you know?” Ros’ voice is bright. “Where I grew up, it’s the same as a marriage proposal to say you want someone to dri-“

“-I know!” Alba cuts in, face burning. 

“Oh, so you did know.” Ros’ mouth curves into a smug, satisfied smile. “So you meant that we’re basically married anyways?”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“I see… so you had your merry way with me, but you don’t want to commit…” Ros sighs, gloominess clouding his face. 

It’s fake. It’s definitely fake. Alba isn’t stupid. 

But… seeing that expression hurts-

“You’re just going too fast,” mumbles Alba. 

“Oh, what, Hero, you took me seriously?” Ros snickers immediately, and Alba flushes with anger even though he knew it was coming. 

“You- you-“

A hand trails down his arm as in the blink of an eye, lips are brushing against his ear. 

“When I propose to you, it’ll be much nicer than this,” Ros murmurs, then leans back with a smile. 

“I-I se-“ Alba clamps his mouth shut, the words finally registering. 

_‘When’?_

Alba shoots Ros an incredulous stare. 

Ros just smiles back. 

* * *

Alba hasn’t forgotten what they talked about last night, about what Ros won’t tell him. 

And he hasn’t forgotten _maybe when Rchi comes to visit. _

Did Rchi know? Why did Ros tell her, but not him? 

He’s not so far gone to be jealous of a little girl, but still- 

The curiosity burns. 

It burns, as Alba examines his neck spotted with marks in the bathroom mirror and sourly wishes he had concealer. It burns, as they head out to the quest board and decide what quest they want to take that day. 

But Alba holds it back, because while he’s dying to know, what he told Ros wasn’t a lie. No matter what may have happened in Ros’ past, no matter if Alba really would laugh at it, it wouldn’t, couldn’t, erase the three-odd years they’ve journeyed together.

Alba knows who Ros is today, just as Ros knows who he is today. That’s the most important thing. 

Besides, it’s been a while since Rchi’s come by. It’s about time for her to pop into the human world again, and Alba figures he can wait until she does. 

(He doesn’t quite expect her to come by so soon though.)

* * *

They have dinner outside that day, so it’s late evening by the time they make their way back to their inn room. 

And as Alba yawns and throws his jacket onto his bed, his eyes land on two white postcards still strewn on the coffee table. 

_Ah, _he thinks. 

“Soldier-“ he calls out, and Ros peeks into the bedroom from the kitchen. 

“What is it, Hero?” 

“That,” Alba says simply, pointing at the postcards. “Are we going or not?”

Ros looks a little like he’s swallowed a lemon. “Oh, that.”

Alba walks over to the table, scoops up the postcards. 

“We should go,” Alba says reasonably, waving the cards. “It’s your brother.”

“He’s always been more an idiot than my brother,” Ros mutters contrarily. 

“He can be both.”

“I _suppose_,” says Ros, sigh long-suffering. He heads into the bedroom, drawing near, and squints at the postcards with a scowl. “Do you want to go, Hero?”

“Lake-san has always seemed like a nice person,” Alba says with a smile. “It would be good to go.”

“I suppose they’re nice, if nothing else,” Ros admits, sounding cross nonetheless. 

“And I’ve never been to a wedding before,” Alba continues. “It seems like fun.”

“You should lower your expectations. It’s more boring than anything else,” Ros says flatly, but sighs again and yanks the postcards out of Alba’s hands. “Fine, fine, we can go. I’ll fill these out for our RSVP.”

“Thanks, Soldier.” Alba’s smile brightens. 

Ros glances to the side. “...It’s nothing to smile about. This is why you’re an idiot..”

“What does smiling have to do with anything?!” Alba sputters, smile dissipating. “And besides, you smile a lot too!”

“Excuse me? Are you blind, Hero?” Ros rolls his eyes as he looks back at Alba. “I do not.”

“You’re always smiling!” Alba objects, then scowls. “...I mean, half the time it’s because you’re laughing at me, _but-_“

“That doesn’t count.” Ros spreads his hand flat on his heart. “Smiling at you feels as natural as punching you to me.”

“Wouldn’t you usually say ‘as natural as breathing’?!”

“But they’re both more natural to me than that,” Ros says, then smiles angelically. 

“See!” Alba points at Ros’ face. “You’re smiling right now!” 

“I just said it doesn’t count, do keep up.” The smile curves up into a smirk. 

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

A hand pushes him down, ruffles his hair. 

“It means being around you makes me unusually happy, Hero,” Ros says fondly. 

Alba pushes against Ros’ hand, draws himself back up against the light force and makes Ros’ hand fall back tothe side. 

“There isn’t anything unusual about it if you’re _usually _with me!” Alba shoots back. 

Ros blinks, once, twice, then there’s light pink dusting his cheeks. 

He smiles again, softly this time. “You always know what to say, don’t you, Hero?”

“...Well,” Alba starts, scratching a cheek awkwardly as the self-consciousness hits. “It’s one of my few talents.”

“If we end our journey, maybe we really can start up a comedy routine,” says Ros, amused. “I’m sure you’d do better than you are now.”

“Urgh…” Alba can’t deny it. 

“Anyways.” With a few quick steps, Ros flops down onto the couch behind the coffee table. He spreads the two postcards on the table and grabs a pen from a cup. “Let’s fill these things out, I suppose.”

Ros looks at Alba expectantly, and so with a cough, Alba sits himself on the couch, then scooches over until he’s sitting barely a couple hands-lengths away. 

“Too far,” Ros says immediately, and drags him until their shoulders are brushing and their thighs are touching. 

Alba expected (hoped for) no less. 

He leans himself against Ros’ shoulder, and so Ros hums happily as he scribbles out a response on the card. 

“There you go,” Ros says, dropping the pen on the table with a clatter. “We can mail it out tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Soldier,” Alba murmurs, eyes half-lidded. 

“You’re welcome.” A hand starts stroking his hair, gently. “You seem tired.”

Alba hadn’t thought he was. But sitting next to Ros’ warmth… 

“A little,” mumbles Alba, then can’t help a scowl- “I did defeat a bunch of monsters today. No thanks to you.”

“I don’t know if I’d say a _bunch_,” says Ros, amused. “But it was still well done, I suppose.” Lips press against his head. “You should pick harder quests, I haven’t been able to see you struggle enough lately.”

“Harder or easier quests, someone still needs to do them,” Alba says quietly. “If the townspeople could do it, they wouldn’t have made it a quest. And with so many heroes quitting, who else is left to do the boring old easy quests?”

“...Hero, can you look this way for a second?” Ros asks neutrally. 

“Mm?” Alba glances up, and then Ros is pecking a kiss against his lips, looking all-too-happy as he does so. “Ah.”

He leans back against Ros’ shoulder, sleepy and satisfied, and Ros strokes his hair again. 

“Do you want to just go to sleep?” asks Ros. 

“Probably…” Alba admits. 

“Okay,” Ros says gently, and then there’s hands slipping under him and scooping him into Ros’ arms. 

Alba’s eyes flick wide open as Ros stands up with a whoosh of air, Alba held snugly in his arms. 

“Wh-wh-wha-“

“It’ll go faster this way, right?” Ros says, smile sunny. 

Alba flushes bright red. “I still need to get ready for bed! I can do that myself!”

“I can help you,” is Ros’ bright response, as he starts to walk them to the bathroom. 

“Help me with fighting before you help me with walking!”

“Yes, yes.” Ros snickers. “You talk like you hate it, but you’re being quite docile in my actual hold, hmm?”

“Urk.” Desperate to hide his expression, Alba presses his face into Ros’ shoulder. 

“You’re so cute,” Ros says, too fond. 

Alba bites his lip at that, the familiar phrase and the embarrassing situation combining to twinge at an insecurity. 

“...Soldier.”

Ros comes to a halt. “Yes, Hero?”

“You’re… you’re always saying stuff like that,” Alba mumbles, looking back towards Ros. “But I’m not a kid anymore. And I’m just gonna get older and older…”

Ros just snorts. “Are you stupid?”

“What?”

“What does age have to do with anything?” Ros smiles at him. “One day, you’ll be a wrinkly old man who has to use a cane to get around, and you’ll be just as cute as you are today.”

“...I really don’t understand your standards,” Alba says, brows furrowed. 

(He still feels a little better though.)

“My standards are you,” Ros says simply, then leans in. Alba’s eyes flick close automatically, as he feels chapped lips press against his own-

The fwomp of a gate opening. 

“Hi, Alba-san, Ros… -san…”

Alba’s eyes blink back open in an instant, his head whipping towards the sound. 

Rchi stands in the entranceway, a black gate slamming shut behind her. She stares, eyes wide and mouth open. 

Face feeling like it’s on fire, Alba wonders if it’s possible to die from mortification. 

* * *

“Don’t worry about it, Alba-san!” Rchi says brightly from across the table. 

“She would’ve found out at some point,” Ros says reasonably, patting Alba’s back. 

Alba, sitting at the kitchen table with his face buried in his hands, just groans. 

“Dig me a hole,” he says mournfully, “I’m going to jump into it and never come out.”

Ros’ hand rubs soothing motions onto his back. 

“If that’s what you want, Hero, I’d be happy to help,” Ros says brightly. “I’ll make a very nice ‘hole’ for us to-“

“-Wait, no!” Alba’s arms fall down to the table as he whips his head around to glare at Ros. “You’re not locking me up!”

“Tch.” Ros clicks his tongue, looking displeased. He brings his arms back. 

Alba just groans again. 

“Really, don’t worry about it, Alba-san!” Rchi exclaims. “It’s not _that_ surprising anyways!”

“I-it isn’t?” Alba blinks at that. 

“After all, Ros-san was always so _caring_ where he knew you wouldn’t see.” Rchi giggles. 

“Don’t say things you don’t need to,” Ros mutters, glancing to the side. 

...He looks a little embarrassed. 

“Wait, Soldier-“ Alba says, grinning, “How long have you liked me?”

“I don’t remember,” Ros says flatly, then smiles cheerfully. “But I do remember I wanted to have you as mine from pretty early on!”

As Ros lightly slides a hand on Alba’s thigh under the table, a chill runs down Alba’s back. 

“Um,” Alba says nervously, “What does that mean?”

Ros’ smile doesn’t dim a single watt. “What do you think it means,_ Alba_?”

A bead of sweat trails down Alba’s face. 

“A-Anyways, Rchi-chan!” Alba exclaims, deciding he didn’t want to know. “Are you just here to visit?”

Rchi shakes her head. “No, sorry. The truth is… we thought that you might be able to help.”

_We? _Alba thinks, as Ros asks, “With what?”

“It… might be better if Dad explains,” she says, and Alba’s eyes widen. 

“You found your dad?” Alba asks excitedly. 

“Yeah!” Rchi’s face brightens. “I had to search through a lot of gates, but I found him! He really was lost in a dimensional rift like you said he was, Ros-san!” 

Alba looks at Ros at that, confused. ”Dimensional rift?”

“A rift between the demon world and the human world,” Ros explains, then raises a thin eyebrow. “What, did you not learn it in school?” He gasps dramatically. “Oh, I’m sorry. You never went to school, did you?”

“I did too!”

“Oh, sorry again.” Ros smirks. “I couldn’t tell.”

Alba growls, but Ros just looks amused. 

Rchi giggles another time. “I’m happy you both haven’t changed.”

“Well, we’ve changed a little.” Ros strokes Alba’s thigh all-too-lightly, then smiles fondly. “Right, Hero?”

Alba tries to hold back a blush at the soft expression. He fails. 

“Anyways, Rchi,” Ros says, voice serious. “About your dad…”

“Oh, I can call him over now!” Rchi exclaims. She raises an arm. 

Panic flickers over Ros’ face for the briefest moment. “Wait, Rchi- I don’t think it’s the best idea to-“

“Ei-yah!”

A large black gate forms in the middle of the kitchen. 

Ros stares at it blankly, going pale. Alba frowns at the expression. 

“Don’t worry,” Alba says, going for comforting even if he didn’t understand why. “I’m sure Rchi’s dad knows how to avoid affecting his surroundings.”

“That isn’t the problem,” Ros says grimly, as a caped leg begins to step through the gate. “That really isn’t the problem.”

“Then what is?”

He sees Ros visibly swallow. “Hero, I just want you to remember- I did _think _about telling you.”

“Huh?” Alba says, confused for a moment. Then his eyes widen in realization. “Wait, are you talking abou-“

“Rchi, are those two the hero and soldier you mentioned?”

Alba’s gaze flicks back to the gate, and there stands a blond man - blond _demon_, he supposes - staring at them with an intense gaze. 

He looks… surprised. 

“Yup!” Rchi answers, popping the p. 

“I see, I see.” The demon breaks out into a relieved smile. “I was wondering what kind of people you would be, but if _you’re _the hero, then there’s nothing to be worried about!”

Alba frowns at that. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

“I don’t think we have, Mr. Soldier!” With a couple broad strides, he’s shaking Alba’s hand enthusiastically. “It’s wonderful to meet you!”

“It’s… good to meet you too?” Alba says hesitantly, then pauses. “Wait, I’m not-“

“And it’s wonderful to see you again!” Rchi’s father is already moving on, clasping his hands around Ros’. Ros accepts the treatment silently, expression still grim. 

Alba’s frown deepens. Again? Why would Ros know Rchi’s father?

“Second,” Ros says carefully. “There’s something you should know.”

“Hm?” The demon - the Second? - says, “What is it, Creasion-san?”

...What was that?

Albs looks at Ros, hoping for clarification, but he gets none. 

Ros just looks incredibly pissed. 

He must’ve misheard. The Second probably said _Sion-san_, that’s all. 

(Now that he thinks about it, ‘Sion’ _is _awfully similar to…)

“You just had to say my name, didn’t you?” Ros is saying sharply. 

“I-I’m sorry, Creasion-san,” the Second is stammering out.

Once he could’ve misheard. Twice was pushing it. This denial thing was short-lived. 

“Soldier,” Alba says shortly, and Ros coughs. 

“Hero,” Ros says brightly, with far too much bravado. 

“Did he just-“ Alba presses in, clenches onto Ros’ shirt in a vice hard grip.

Ros says nothing.

His throat feeling all-too-dry, he swallows, wets his lips, then demands-

“_What did he just call you?_”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll finish part 2... sometime... probably.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me @ me: no one cares about a less-traumatic SQ version of webcomic season 2  
me: too late I already wrote 10k words  
me: also there's elf now  
me @ me: oh for fuck's-

“Hero, are you mad?”

Alba, sitting on his bed with his face buried in his hands, pretends not to hear.

“Hero…” A hand touches his shoulder gently, but Alba jerks back from the touch. 

“Don’t… just don’t talk right now,” Alba mumbles into his hands. 

He hears a sigh, then the mattress shifts as someone settles himself next to him. 

Ros is obediently quiet for once, and so the realization dawns- Alba might be confused, very tired, and yes, a little mad, but Ros, for once, must be nervous... or even worried?

_Ros. _

Nervous. 

He almost wants to giggle. 

“I… don’t blame you for not telling me,” Alba says finally, quietly. He lets out a short, hysterical laugh, muffled a little by his hands. “I mean, you were right, I wouldn’t have believed you! I would’ve laughed!” 

Silence. 

Alba continues, “It feels unreal even now. I want to believe you’re messing with me, but…” He bites his lip. “I can’t imagine both Rchi _and _her father playing along with something like this.”

The Second and Rchi were both gone now, back to the Demon World for the night. They’d be back soon- they’d need to be, Alba was sure whatever they originally came for was important, but…

Alba can’t process anything but Ros = Creasion at the moment. 

No… That’s a lie. 

He’s not even able to process that. 

The explanation he received was… brief… and he’s still not able to process it. 

A thousand years ago, Hero Creasion sacrificed his life to kill Demon Lord Rchimedes - the First - for good. 

That in itself was a surprise. There were some stories that claimed that Creasion fell in battle, but they were generally unpopular. Most tales preferred to have Creasion live, to have him seal the Demon Lord away then live happily ever after. 

(He should’ve known the reality wasn’t so pretty.)

A thousand years later, Creasion was reborn, as a boy named Sion in a sleepy town called Originia. The residual magic left within the legendary hero was more than enough to let him keep his memories, when normally they’d be wiped clean on birth. 

And so Sion grew up a second time, left home and took the name Ros, became a soldier-

Met Alba. 

Slowly, Alba lets his hands fall into his lap. Carefully, carefully, he looks towards Ros. 

Ros’ expression is guarded. 

“Soldier,” Alba says, wary. 

“Hero,” Ros replies, the tone an echo of his own. 

Alba frowns at that, his gaze falling back to his feet. “Aren’t… aren’t you the real hero?”

It all makes sense now, why Ros is so ridiculously strong, why he has such a burning sense of justice hidden away behind a carefree exterior. 

No other hero even could even hold a candle to Ros. That much was obvious from the time Ros held that stupid competition- the one to see who would get the right to fight “the great criminal Alba”. Years back, back when he still had that ridiculous bounty on his head. 

When a winner was decided, Ros beat the poor hero unconscious before he could even get at Alba, stuck his tongue out at the other heroes - who were staring incredulously - and danced off with Alba nervously trailing behind. 

At the time, it had just seemed obvious that no one could possibly win against Ros, but-

That was weird. That was definitely weird, that even the strongest of the seventy-five heroes didn’t even stand a chance against a soldier. Why wouldn’t _Ros _be a hero if he were that strong?

Of course it turned out he was the true hero all along. 

(Of course it turned out Alba was nothing but a joke.)

“I’m not a hero anymore,” is Ros’ quiet reply. 

“Yes, you are,” Alba says, not even bothering to hide the bitterness in his voice. “I thought I was getting better, stronger, but I’m still nothing compared to you, aren’t I?” He lets out a laugh, a little hysterical again. “You’re just letting me play around whil-“

“-Hero!” Ros cuts in, voice sharp, and Alba clamps his mouth shut automatically.

Ros lays his hand over Alba’s, the hold almost uncomfortably gentle. 

Alba still lets him. 

“Hero,” Ros repeats, more calmly, “I’m much stronger than you. That’s true. But you _are _improving, and I’ve never thought you were just ‘playing around’.” His gaze is steady. “You’ve always had the temperament of a hero, if not the power.” A smile, fond. “It’s part of why I love you.”

Ros’ expression was familiar. He’d seen the soldier gaze at him adoringly a hundred times. He’d heard him profess his love a hundred times more. 

And yet now, it all seems ridiculous. Despite Ros’ continuous claims of love, he can’t help but doubt again, can’t help but wonder if Ros wasn’t actually messing with him. 

(What could _Hero Creasion _see in him?)

“...What does the ‘temperament of a hero’ even _mean?_” Alba mumbles. 

“When push comes to shove, you always care more about others than yourself or some glory.” A finger traces circles on the back of his hand. “You don’t care about doing the boring, dirty work, if that’s the best thing you can do to help someone.” His gaze softens further. “You’re kind.”

“I’m…” Alba shakes his head in denial. “I’m not doing anything that anyone else couldn’t do.” 

“Plenty of people _could, _certainly,” Ros grants, “But they don’t. You do, Hero.”

Alba doesn’t know what to say to that. 

“Besides, Hero-“ Here, Ros looks a little guilty, “-it’s my fault that you’re still so weak.”

What?

“That’s not true,” Alba says with a frown. 

“I didn’t want to let you go, all this time,” Ros says simply, “So you don’t _need _to push yourself far and beyond your limits, and you can’t, because if I can’t bear not to step in if you’re that close to death.” He glances away, expression going unreadable. “You’ll… You’d be a much stronger hero if I wasn’t here, Hero.”

“Even if that’s the case,” Alba says carefully, “Which I’m not saying it is! But even if…” He shuffles a little closer, until their shoulders are brushing. “It’s not your fault. It’s our fault, if anything.” The smile still comes easily to his face, surprisingly, despite everything. “It’s not like I can let you go either.”

Ros looks blissfully happy at his words, and Alba… Alba can’t imagine it’s faked. 

“But really… what could make _Hero Creasion _want to stick around with me?” Alba snorts. 

“‘Hero Creasion’ loves you just as much as ‘Soldier Ros’,” says Ros, voice firm. He reaches his other hand out towards Alba, lightly caresses his cheek. “You know why.”

“I do?” Alba says skeptically. 

Ros leans in closer, face drawing all-too-near, and Alba swallows. 

“I was lonely, all this time,” Ros murmurs, “But you saved me when I didn’t even know I needed saving.”

Alba pauses. Then pauses a moment more. 

Heat rises onto his face, cheeks coming aflame. For the second time that night, Alba wishes desperately that he could sink into the ground and disappear. 

“You know,” Alba says, completely mortified. The hand on his cheek remains steady. “I told you about my childhood fantasies_. _Willingly. You _know._”

“You did,” Ros says with a nod, then smiles softly. “I fell in love with you all over again when you said you never wanted to _be _Creasion, just be frien-“

An unintelligible moan escapes Alba’s throat. 

“Kill me now,” he begs. 

“Never,” is Ros’ flat, immediate answer, squeezing Alba’s hand tightly. 

“Of course,” Alba says mournfully. 

“Of course!” 

Alba just sighs. The worst of the embarrassment is starting to abate, though his cheeks still feel warm. 

“Anyways,” Alba says loudly, “That still doesn’t make sense.”

“Mm?” Ros blinks at him, face still far too close. Alba’s eyes flick to the side. 

“I mean- you reincarnated as a baby, right?”

Ros nods. 

“And this life you have a loving family, and childhood friends,” Alba continues. 

“I suppose you could say that.”

“Then it’s not like I was the first to drag you out of your loneliness,” Alba says, frustrated. “I’m sure Crea-san or Lake-san… or anyone you met as a kid…”

“Hero…” The hand at his cheek flits down, brushes at his waist.

Alba isn’t sure if this is just a distraction, but still, he swallows again, his throat feeling dry. 

He can’t help but lean in, the slightest bit.

Then Ros’ arms are wrapping around, squeezing him into his chest. 

(It’s as comfortable as always, and Alba hates that a little.) 

“Hero,” Ros murmurs again, lips brushing against Alba’s ear. “Even back then, my name was Sion.”

Alba frowns. “Back then too?”

“I took the name Creasion in memory of my best friend,” Ros says, quiet. “Crea.”

Alba’s eyes widen. 

“He doesn’t remember.” Ros pauses, then amends his statement. “He remembers flashes. Déjà vu, sometimes. He did have some aptitude for magic, and it _was_ awakened in him, for a brief moment.” Ros shrugs. “But you need a lot of magic to remember everything.”

“I’m… not sure what you’re getting at,” Alba admits. 

“It’s not just Crea,” Ros says flatly. “Lake, my mother… my father… everyone I knew growing up, I knew - or at least knew of - a thousand years past.”

“...That’s a huge coincidence.”

“It wasn’t a coincidence,” Ros mutters darkly, and Alba’s ears perk up. But Ros continues before Alba gets the chance to ask more. “My point is, Hero, growing up that second time, I wanted nothing more than to leave that place as quickly as possible.” His hand strokes down Alba’s back, light. “I was thirteen when I swiped my mother’s bat and headed out to the capital to become a soldier. Changed my name, hairstyle, anything to stop my family from dragging me back to them.” 

A shrug. “I couldn’t deal with it. _Creasion _couldn’t deal with it, living with people he let die a thousand years back. Thirteen years, and I still couldn’t deal with it.” 

Alba’s hands clench tight on Ros’ shirt. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. 

“Save the apology for when you get us thrown in jail again, Hero,” Ros snorts, and Alba sputters in offense. Ros continues regardless, “Anyways, I got better after I joined the garrison and got forced to talk to people, but I still didn’t make _friends._ And when I got slated as one of the soldiers sent out to accompany heroes? I picked you because I thought it’d be fun watching you fail.”

Alba jerks back from the embrace. “_That’s _why you picked me?!”

“And I wasn’t disappointed!” Ros says brightly, smiling widely. 

“I wish you were!” Alba snaps back. 

Ros just laughs. “Don’t be like that, Hero.” His gaze softens. “Your stupid antics dragged my emotions back out into the open, when nothing else had even come close.” 

“...Didn’t you mostly just screw with me back at the start?”

Ros’ smile is shining. “And it felt absolutely wonderful.”

Alba scowls. “I should hate you.”

“Yes, yes.” Ros presses a quick kiss against his nose. Alba reluctantly lets him. “You’re so cute when you pout.”

“I’m not pouting!” 

“Of course, Hero, whatever you say.” Ros’ smile goes sardonic, and Alba _scowls _more. 

“...It still hasn’t really registered, you know,” Alba admits, voice stilted. ”That you’re Hero Creasion, I mean. But…” Tentatively, Alba takes Ros’ hands in his own. “But I guess I sorta get it, at least.”

After a moment of hesitation, Ros’ hands close around Alba’s as well. 

(The grip is warm.)

* * *

They go to bed after that. It’s late, Alba has been tired for a while now, and Alba says firmly that any other revelations can wait until the morning. 

(The fact that Ros’ response to that is “In the morning, then.” is mildly ominous, but Alba decides that’s a problem for Future Alba and not for himself.)

“I can clear out the other bed,” Ros offers, and Alba blinks in confusion. 

They’re paying for a two bed suite, because they can afford it now and the suite tends to be bigger than any one bed ones, but Alba can’t remember the last time the second bed was ever _used. _They throw stuff on it sometimes, clothes and baggage and groceries, but they always sleep together on the other bed. 

Some of his dismay must show on his face, because Ros immediately backtracks with a smile. “Only if you’d like, Hero.”

“It… it’s late,” Alba mumbles with some embarrassment, “L-let’s just go to sleep, um, normally.” He coughs. “I don’t want to make you go to the bother.”

“Right,” says Ros, with no little amusement. 

But he leaves it at that, much to Alba’s relief, and the night ends. 

* * *

“There’s one more thing you should know,” Ros says at the breakfast table the next morning. 

(It’s mainly rolled egg omelettes. Despite what Ros seems to think, Alba doesn’t particularly feel like he needs to be appeased by his favourite food at the moment. 

Though not that he’s going to say no to it, of course.)

“What is it?” Alba asks, resigned. 

But then Ros hesitates, eyes flicking to the side. A finger taps the table, then-

“Nevermind.”

Alba frowns at that. “Soldier… I’ll believe anything at this point.”

“That’s not the problem,” mutters Ros, then shakes his head. 

“Soldier,” Alba repeats, annoyed now. “I don’t want there to be any more secrets.”

“...I know,” Ros says quietly. “I’m sorry. I just…” he trails off. 

His expression is almost _wretched_, and it instantly makes Alba feel like a terrible person. 

Alba _knew, _didn’t he? He’s read the older, more historically-accurate tales about Hero Creasion, out of curiosity as a child when he ran out of the carefully sanitized stories. He knew that even if a quarter of what he read was true, Hero Creasion went through horrors. 

Of course it would hurt even Ros to think back to those times. 

(Alba, above anything else, just wants Ros to be happy. Just wants Ros to be always smiling. 

Sometimes, absentmindedly, he thinks he’d let the world fall to ruin if it meant Ros would keep smiling.

It’s just a silly fantasy, that’s all, but...)

“Sorry,” Alba murmurs. “You don’t have to say if you don’t want to.”

“...Thanks, Hero,” Ros says after a pause. 

And smiles. 

* * *

They have a lazy day inside. They don’t really talk about it - Alba doesn’t ask “Hey, can we not do any quests today?” - but that’s what happens. 

Alba reads, mostly. Not the _Tales_ \- those books are shoved into the back of his pack, and would probably stay there indefinitely - but other books. Lighter books. Silly romances and fun mysteries. 

Ros, on the other hand, cooks up a storm in between laughing at Alba’s choices in literature. 

“This protagonist is almost as dense as you, Hero,” Ros snorts, pressed next to Alba on the couch. “This girl is practically throwing herself at her, and she still thinks they’re just friends.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Lunch is a veritable feast of salads and sandwiches, and even after that, he keeps on cooking. Alba moves his reading to the kitchen table, and watches as the fridge is filled to the brim with dumplings and spaghetti sauces and tempura-battered shrimp and veggies ready to be fried. 

“What’s for dinner tonight?” Alba asks, head tilted in confusion at the broad assortment of food. 

“Hopefully dumplings,” answers Ros, his knife a blur on the cutting board. “But… it might be salad and fried chicken instead.”

_Hopefully? _Alba thinks, still rather confused. But he shrugs and lets it go. 

As far as Alba was aware, Ros’ two main forms of stress relief were beating Alba up and cooking, after all. So if Ros had chosen cooking, Alba wasn’t about to disturb that choice. 

(Later, he wishes so very much that he had.)

If Ros continues at this pace, Alba thinks, they’d probably run out of ingredients. 

He’s not wrong, but that’s not what he’s asked to deal with. 

“Hero,” Ros says in early evening, glancing back from the stove. “I want crepes. Red bean and whipped cream ones.”

Alba looks up from his book. “Are there even any crepe places in this town…?”

“Yes!” Ros exclaims, face bright. “There’s one on the opposite side of the river, by the town hall!”

“By the town hall- isn’t that totally across town?!” Alba sputters. “It’ll take a half hour just to get there!”

“I see how it is.” Ros’ expression morphs into disgust. “You spend all day lazing around while I cook, but won’t even get me some crepes…”

“You _like _cooking!” Alba counters hotly, but gets up from his chair anyways. With a half-hearted sigh, he discards his book on the table. 

Grumbling, he mutters a short “Fine.” 

“I’m counting on you, Hero!” Ros says cheerily. 

“Yes, yes.”

* * *

When Alba gets back, carefully holding the container of crepes, Ros looks… sad again. He’s sitting at the kitchen table spread with food - salad and fried chicken, Alba notes with a frown - doing nothing, just staring at the wooden grains with a miserable look on his face. 

(It hurts.)

But before Alba can say anything, Ros looks up, and his expression brightens so much Alba almost thinks he just imagined the earlier misery. 

Almost. 

“Took you long enough, Hero,” Ros says with a winning smile. “Put that in the fridge - let’s have dinner first.”

The smile doesn’t look forced, seems as natural as it can be, but-

“Are you okay, Soldier?”

Ros blinks at him in confusion. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Alba glances to his feet. “It’s just that…”

He trails off, not knowing what to say. There’s silence for a few moments, before it’s broken by a loud sigh. 

“Just put those crepes away and sit down, Hero,” Ros says gently. He smiles sunnily. “Don’t worry, I’m fine now that my favourite punching bag is back!”

Alba sputters, “What was that just now?!”

* * *

That night, Ros kisses him as soon as the soldier crawls into bed with him. 

“Mm,” Alba hums, pleased, as Ros sinks his tongue deeper, tightens his grip on Alba’s hair. 

They break apart. 

“Hero…” Ros murmurs, eyes soft. 

He rests his chin on Alba’s shoulder, hand still lightly threaded through Alba’s hair. 

“Mm?” Alba glances down at Ros’ head. 

His hair is spiking up as dangerously as usual, Alba thinks absentmindedly. 

“Suck me off?”

It’s a request for once, instead of a snappy demand or smug order that Ros knows will be obeyed. 

It doesn’t make much of a difference though. 

(Alba doesn’t want to think right now. Doesn’t want to think about Creasion, about Rchi’s worries, about threats to the world. 

He wants to forget anything or anyone exists outside of Ros, at least for a few moments.)

Alba swallows thickly. “...Okay.”

Ros nuzzles Alba’s neck, then shuffles back a little so his back is pressed against the bedframe. 

His legs open invitingly, and Alba swallows again. 

Carefully, tentatively, Alba brings his head down, hands already reaching out to Ros’ waist as he does. With some effort, he shoves Ros’ pants down, leaving the soldier’s cock free to pop up into the air, half-hard. 

Alba licks his lips. 

“How long are you going to stare, Hero?” Ros snorts. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“I-I’m getting to it!” Alba snaps, flushing, and it’s with an annoyed scowl that he closes the final distance. 

In a swift move, he takes the head of Ros’ cock into his mouth, and flicks his tongue over the tip. As he dips down, circles a hand around the base of the cock, he feels it get steadily harder, longer. 

Ros lets out a low grunt that goes straight to his nether regions, and he hums around the member. 

But it’s not enough.

He wants more, needs more. Wants to be fucked senseless, in all honesty, but Ros asked to be sucked off, so he’ll happily take the alternative option. 

(He’d rather die than admit it though.)

So once he feels Ros is fully hard, he comes off of Ros’ cock with a pop. Slowly, lightly, he licks a strip against the length, presses light kisses against the head, teasing, teasing, teasing…

He’s not surprised when he feels a hand clenching his hair tight in response. 

(Finally.)

“You’re a thousand years to early to be a tease with me,” Ros says, voice more breathy than he probably intended. He roughly pulls Alba a little ways back, and Alba’s eyes automatically flick up towards his soldier at the slight jolt of pain. 

There’s a red flush to Ros’ cheeks, and Alba loves it. 

“Open your mouth,” Ros orders. 

Alba opens his mouth. 

He only has enough time to take in Ros’ satisfied smirk before he’s choking, unceremoniously shoved onto Ros’ cock with his nose pressed right against the soldier’s crotch. Alba feels a cough building up, the cock pushing against the back of his throat where his gag reflex is screaming, _nope, do not like, eject, _even as the rest of his body is in bliss. 

(His hips won’t stop thrusting down, desperate for friction as he feels his clothes getting wet from his precum.)

He’s not given the opportunity to gag though, because the next moment he’s pulled back by a harsh tug on his hair, and then Ros is fucking his mouth in earnest, in and out, in and out. 

Little grunts and moans hit his ears from above, and Alba shudders, the pleasure coursing through his body. He concentrates on keeping his mouth wide open, on getting as much friction as possible to his own cock, and it’s almost automatic, the way one of his hands starts sneaking down towards his crotch-

Ros _yanks _at his hair, and Alba whimpers, half in pain, half still dazed from the overwhelming feeling. 

“Keep your hands where they are,” orders Ros, and Alba, obediently, leaves them clenching the sheets. 

A hand ruffles his hair, surprisingly gently. 

“Well done, Alba,” Ros says gently, and Alba moans around Ros’ cock, the praise going straight to his own dick as usual. 

Then Ros is going back to thrusting, cock fucking his mouth mercilessly again, and Alba’s moans are stemmed away before they can even escape his mouth. 

His thighs squirm, hips rolling to rub his crotch against the mattress, and even though the sensation is muted when blocked by his pants, it’s enough when he’s in a state like this. 

Alba’s eyes squeeze shut as he shudders, the pleasure reaching a peak and boiling over. He feels his cock twitch in his pants as it releases its load, constrained as it is, and lets out an aborted whimper as it does. 

His mind is hazy once he’s come, but he can still feel Ros thrust in him, once, twice more, cock pushing right up against the back of Alba’s throat, before pulling Alba off his cock entirely. 

Alba has barely the time to register the lack of obstruction in his mouth before he feels something wet and sticky splashing onto his face, Ros letting out a shuddering breath as he comes. 

(Though he wouldn’t have been able to avoid it even if he had the time, Ros’ hand keeping his head tight in place.)

A moment later, Alba starts hacking, saliva and precum dripping from his mouth. He almost brings up a hand to wipe it away, but remembers Ros’ order at the last second. 

So instead, he just looks back up at Ros, mouth panting and mind in a daze, and Ros smiles, a satisfied air around him. 

“Oh my, Hero,” Ros drawls, voice mocking. “You’re such a mess.”

Voice hoarse, the ache in his throat starting to get harder to ignore now there wasn’t a cock stuffed in it, Alba mutters crossly, ”And whose fault is that?”

“Mine,” Ros says brightly, and pecks a quick kiss onto Alba’s hair. “Mm. You look so _good _like this, _Alba_.”

Alba feels a blush building up on his cheeks. 

The hand in his hair begins caressing through it, softly. “When I first had you suck me off, you had no idea what to do- now you look so blissed out just by me fucking your face.” Ros looks unbearably smug. “It’s a real turn-on, you know?”

His face is definitely burning now. 

“...Shut up,” he mumbles weakly. 

Ros just laughs. 

“Come here,” he says affectionately. “I’ll suck you off too.”

Alba twitches, eyes flicking to the side. “Um. No need.”

Ros lets out a noise of confusion, then there’s a pause. 

“_Ah_,” Ros says, the sound smug and knowing, and Alba’s face burns harder. 

“Shut _up_,” Alba repeats defensively, then he’s getting dragged up into Ros’ arms. 

Ros happily presses a kiss against Alba’s lips, even as Alba mutters weakly that it’s unhygienic. 

“You’re such a slut for my dick,” Ros hums cheerfully. “Next time I’ll have to-“

He cuts himself off out of nowhere, expression going unreadable, and Alba blinks. 

“Soldier?” Alba asks hesitantly. 

“Ros,” Ros corrects immediately, and then Alba’s getting shoved back down onto the sheets. 

He yelps. Ros ignores It. 

Ros smiles down at him. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to move on to round two.”

Despite the ache in his throat growing harder to ignore, despite the post-orgasm tiredness sneaking up on him, Alba’s legs spread wide open of their own accord. 

(Traitors.)

* * *

It’s the next morning, another day of Ros’ freshly-cooked breakfast, when Ros slides into the seat across from Alba and says, simply, “Sorry.”

Alba blinks in confusion. “What for?”

“For last night,” and here, Ros glances to the side, expression indecipherable. “I didn’t want to be so rough.” 

“You… always want to be rough,” Alba says flatly, not following. 

(And so does Alba most of the time, if he were being honest with himself.)

A pause. “Not always.”

“Okay…?” responds Alba, confused. 

“I love you, you know,” Ros says quietly, and while Alba’s starting to get used to those words, the tone is unfairly gentle. 

So his face heats up, the slightest bit. “I know!”

Ros smiles, just a little. “Just making sure.”

With an awkward cough, Alba shoves a slice of egg omelette in his mouth, chews, swallows. 

“You’re acting kinda weird today, Soldier,” he mumbles once he’s done. 

“I guess I am,” admits Ros all-too-easily, smile dissipating from his face. 

Alba frowns. “Are you… alright?”

“No.”

Alba flinches at the blunt response. “Is it something I did?”

“No!” Ros says sharply, eyes widening. “No, Hero, it’s nothing to do with you. It’s just…” He stands up, chair rattling as it’s pushed behind him. “Hero… these past few years, they’ve been like a dream.”

A chill settles in Alba’s stomach. 

“Why are you talking like that?” Alba demands. “Like it’s all coming to an end?”

Ros is silent for a moment, two, then averts his gaze and opens his mouth. 

“Because it is.”

Alba’s chopsticks clatter to the table, his insides freezing solid. 

Ros still won’t meet his gaze. 

“What are you talking about?” Alba asks, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. “If it’s a joke, it isn’t funny.”

“It’s not a joke.” Ros’ eyes flick close. “Hero… I never thought I could experience as much happiness as I did with you. So-“

“-Stop talking like you’re dying!” Alba snaps, scrambling up from the table as well. “Why- I told you I didn’t care who you were! I don’t care! Soldier-“

“-I already told you, it doesn’t have anything to do with you, Hero,” Ros says, ever-calmly. “My past caught up with me. That’s all.”

“_Then let me help!” _Alba throws up his hands, voice getting higher. “Explain what’s going on! I’m a hero too, you know! I-” he pauses “-_technically _saved the world!”

“...I _know_ that,” Ros snaps, voice distraught, and it’s enough to make Alba deflate, take a step back. 

“Then rely on me!”

“I can’t.” Ros shakes his head. “Hero… you’re not weak, not anymore. You’d probably even put up a fair fight against a high-ranking demon. _But._” His gaze goes freezing cold, the pressure immense, and to his frustration, Alba can’t quite suppress a tremble. “Rchimedes is on a different level.”

“You mean the First?” Alba feels the blood starting to drain from his face. “He’s actually revived? For real this time?”

A small, grim nod. 

“Killing him wasn’t enough.” Ros’ fists clench. “I need to… I need to seal him, and me with him. Killing him again would just let him revive at his leisure.”

“Wha- why are those the only two options?! And it doesn't have to be yo-”

“Of course it does.” He smiles, but there’s no cheer to it. “I’m Hero Creasion.”

The words he wanted to say die in his throat, and Alba gazes at the ground. 

“...I see,” he says, after a lengthy pause. 

Ros’ voice brightens the slightest bit. “You do?”

“Yes.” Alba nods, then slams his hands on the table. The cutlery clatters. “That there’s no way I’m letting you do that!”

Ros just looks silently resigned. 

“Hero- I don’t want you to die,” Ros says quietly. 

“And you think _I _don’t want _you _to die either?!” snaps Alba. “You don’t even have magic anymore, right?! You’re barely better than me!”

“Magic or not, I could wipe the floor with you,” Ros says with a scowl, and as bitter as he is about it, Alba can’t exactly deny that. “But either way, that’s a problem easily resolved.”

“If you’re smart enough to ‘easily resolve’ that problem,” Alba snaps, “Then find a solution that lets you stay after we defeat Rchimedes!”

“And what if people die while I’m looking for that solution? What if _you _die?” Ros hisses. “Because of me, Rchi already-“ 

He cuts himself off. 

“Rchi what?” demands Alba. A lightbulb lights in his head as cool fury starts flaring up in his stomach. “Is this what she and her father came to ask? For you to _defeat Demon Lord Rchimedes the First _for them?”

“No, it _wasn’t_,” Ros snaps back. “This was my own decision.”

“So they just strongly suggested it.” Alba grits his teeth. “How could Rchi-chan…”

“None of that!” Ros’ expression twists. “Hero, please. I don’t want to fight.”

“Do you think I do?” To his dismay, Alba feels tears building up in the corners of his eyes. “I won’t let you go alone.”

“...I thought you might say that,” Ros says, expression going blank, and the next thing Alba knows, he can’t move. 

He tries to move his mouth, but to no avail. All he can do is glare at Ros, and so that’s what he does. 

Ros smiles bitterly. “I might not have much magic anymore, but I’ve got enough to do this at least.”

He circles around the table to where Alba is frozen in place, and gently, too gently, wraps his arms around the hero. 

“I’m sorry, Alba,” Ros murmurs into an ear. “I love you. Please don’t die.”

_Wait! _Alba wants to scream, but he can’t. He can’t even twitch a muscle. Can’t even let the tears welling at his eyes spill down his cheeks. 

All he can do is watch, blood rushing in his ears, as Ros steps away and…

...leaves. 

* * *

Alba is as furious as he is heartbroken. 

In his personal opinion, it’s the worst combination of emotions he’s ever experienced. 

By the time Ros’ spell wore off, it was far too late. Alba raced out of the inn, interrogated everyone he passed by, but-

Nobody had seen anyone matching Ros’ description. 

Ros must’ve gone to the Demon World. Must’ve not even left the inn at all, must’ve jumped there as soon as the door shut behind him. 

Sitting alone in the inn room, Alba lets out a laugh that might’ve been a sob. 

How was Alba supposed to follow him there?

* * *

Alba hates himself for not figuring out what Ros was planning. 

It’s obvious, looking at the fridge. Ros has used up all the fresh ingredients, the stuff that’d go bad too soon and couldn’t be frozen - lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, the chicken that was about to go bad. The rest, he’s cooked up into easy-to-prep, long-lasting meals. 

Obvious. It had been so _obvious. _That’s what thinks, as he eats the dumplings that night, nose sniffling. 

But Alba had turned his eyes away from the oddities. He hadn’t wanted to think about anything. He had thought it was okay, to not think for a bit. That Ros would always be there for him, no matter if he was lazy for a bit. 

It was pathetic. 

Ros really had spoiled him rotten. 

Even this- even abandoning him like this. Ros was still spoiling him, refusing to let him fight, saying that he should stay at home and playact at being a hero like a good kid. 

“Well,” Alba mutters lowly, “Fuck that.”

* * *

Though, while it was all well and good to _say _that he’d chase after Ros, he still isn’t quite sure how to go about actually doing it. 

So he starts by making noise in the wastelands. 

(It’s not quite as insane as it sounds.)

Alba blows his whistle, the sound shrill. 

“Rchi!” he yells into the barren wastes. “Rchi-chan, you can hear me, can’t you?”

(Unfortunately, it certainly _looks _as insane as it sounds.)

He blows the whistle again. 

“Rchi, please,” Alba pleads, voice going weaker. “You said you’d answer if we called, didn’t you?” 

The only sound that hits his ears is from the wind. 

Alba lets the whistle fall to the ground, lets his arms fall to his sides. 

He grits his teeth. 

“Fine,” he hisses, voice bitter. Growing louder, he yells, “I didn’t need you anyways! I’m Hero Alba! I defeated Elf November! I-“

“-Ya defeated who?”

Alba’s mouth clamps shut automatically at the sudden voice from behind him. 

He doesn’t recognize the voice. If it’s who he thinks it is, it’s been years - of course he doesn’t recognize it. 

But, as he gets a sinking feeling in his stomach, he thinks he recognizes that dialect. 

Reluctantly, with resignation, Alba turns around. 

“Yo, Alba-san.” Elf November raises a hand, wiggles his fingers in a greeting. “Whatcha doin'?”

* * *

Apparently, the whistle worked by creating a beacon of mana tuned to Rchi that she could sense from whereever she was. 

But also apparently, anyone with enough sensitivity could sense that beacon going up. 

Apparently, Elf November was one of those sensitive few. 

“So yer lookin’ for Sion-kun, huh…” Elf says contemplatively. “He set off to seal away Rchimedes on his lonesome?”

“I don’t care what you want in exchange,” Alba says, desperation all too obvious in his voice. “Just please, take me to the Demon World!”

“I don’t mind doin’ that for ya, Alba-san, but…” Elf shrugs. “I don’t think Sion-kun is in the Demon World, yeah?”

Alba blinks. 

“What,” he says flatly. 

“Rchimedes - the First - ain’t in the Demon World, after all,” Elf explains, “He wouldn’t be able ta keep a low profile for long, and I sure ain’t heard anything ‘bout him.”

“But…” Alba objects, conflicted. “Nobody saw Soldier leave the town…”

“I ain’t sayin’ Sion-kun was _never _in the Demon World,” Elf concedes. “But he probably just used it as a shortcut - or ta hide his trail. Pretty easy ta cut through the Demon World if ya got access to gates.”

“...Are you saying that Rchimedes is _here?!_ Already?!”

“Well, where else would he be?” Elf points out reasonably. “He’s got ‘nough support already down in demonland- why wouldn’t he go straight ta world domination?” 

The cool fear he feels welling up in him must be reflected on his face, because Elf tries for reassuring- “Don’t worry, I’m sure Sion-kun will deal with it all quick-like.”

“I won’t let that happen!” Alba snaps. 

Elf lets out a bright laugh. “Yer always funny, Alba-san. So, how you gonna manage that?”

“I-“ Alba falters a moment, then brightens. “You! You can sense magic, right? Can’t you find Rchimedes?”

“Not ‘til he uses big magic,” Elf says with a shrug. “And ain’t it too late if that happens?”

Alba narrows his eyes at him. “If that’s the case, how do you know he isn’t in the Demon World?”

“What, ya don’t trust me?” Elf smiles nonchalantly. “That hurts.”

“Now that I think about it, you _did _try to take over the world once,” Alba mumbles, his face paling as he slams back to reality. 

What was he thinking? Desperate for demon help or not, this was a dangerous situation. He takes a step back, two, then bravely shouts, “Why should I trust you at all?”

Elf just blinks, looking unperturbed. “Would I get anythin’ outta trickin’ a human without a lick of magic?” 

“Urgh-“ The words stab into his chest. 

The demon snorts. “If I did support ol’ Rchimedes, this’d be the worst way ta help ‘im.”

Alba winces, the harsh words painful- but logical. 

“Would you get anything out of _helping _some random human though?” argues Alba. 

“‘Course I would!” Elf says brightly. “Amusement!”

A long-suffering sigh escapes Alba’s throat. “Why is everyone around me like thi-”

He cuts himself off, his chest panging at the all-too-painful reminder. 

(Ros wasn’t around. Wouldn't be around forever, if he didn't do something about it.)

“Fine, I’ll let this go for now,” Alba snaps, then bites his lip. 

There had to be something… someone… some way to track down either Ros or Rchimedes…

Wait. 

Either?

“How does _Soldier _know where Rchimedes is?” Alba mumbles, hand going to his chin. 

“Now yer askin’ the good questions.” Elf’s grin is sharp. “How _does _he know?”

His memories… that had to be it. Ros knew where Rchimedes was likely to show up, a thousand years back - old haunts? So he’s heading to those locations, one by one, in the hopes of tracking him down?

(There was also the possibility that Rchi and her father, as direct relations to Rchimedes the First, had some kind of way to track him down that they shared with Ros. 

But if that was the case, Alba would have no chance at all of catching up with Ros, so he shoves the nagging thought away into a corner.)

_Everyone I knew growing back, I knew a thousand years past, _Ros said. 

_Crea remembers sometimes, _Ros said. 

“...Crea-san.”

“Huh?”

“I need to go to the capital.” Alba whips around, starts running. 

“Wait, Alba-san?!”

* * *

Ros said that Crea remembered flashes of the past. Déjà vu. Maybe it wasn’t good enough- but it was the only lead Alba had. 

He’s a day’s walk away from the capital - half a day to Cord’s bar in the middle of the wastelands, and another half-day to actually get there. Normally, when they went to the capital from one of the eastern towns, they’d spent the night at Cord’s and set off in the morning. 

Alba has no such intentions as he keeps up his pace, running as fast as he can go. 

“One thing I was wonderin’ though…” Elf says, running beside him without even a bead of sweat on his forehead. It kinda pisses Alba off. 

“...What,” Alba says, wary. 

“Ya said ya defeated me,” Elf says, raising an eyebrow. “When and how’d that ‘appen?”

Alba’s face flushes in embarrassment. “Well, you know, it was still a win! Even if it was mostly luck!”

“Luck?”

Alba frowns. “Don’t tell me you really don’t remember.”

Elf shrugs, expression going neutral. “I don’t like thinkin’ back on my failures and all. Humour me.”

Feeling a little annoyed, Alba grumbles out, “It was rock-paper-scissors with weapons, remember? If you lost, you said you’d give up on world domination.”

“And ya won?”

“Obviously!” Alba snaps. “You really don’t remember? It was meant to be to the death and everything!”

“Huh,” Elf says, pensive. “But we’re both alive.”

“Well,” Alba mumbles, “I couldn’t go through with it in the end.”

“Hm.” Elf nods solemnly, then flashes a grin. “Yeah, that ain’t gonna be much help against Rchimedes.”

Alba scowls again. 

“But Crea-kun, huh…” says Elf contemplatively, “A good choice.”

“You-“ His throat starting to feel dry, Alba hacks, “-know him?” 

“Ya could say that,” Elf says neutrally. 

Alba just glares. “Why are you…” A cough. “...still here anyways?” 

Elf just smiles, and that’s when the horrified realization dawns. 

“You’re… you want me to lead you to Soldier,” Alba breathes, paling. If Elf didn’t care about him- if Elf supported Rchimedes but couldn’t find him to lend his help- then maybe-

“Don’t be stupid,” laughs Elf, “I would tail ya secretly if I wanted ta do that.” He snorts. “Naw, I just wanna watch yer desperate attempts at findin’ Sion-kun.”

“I have to try!” Alba snaps, almost coming to a stop from the flash of anger. 

“‘Course ya do,” Elf says, surprisingly agreeable all of a sudden. His eyes shine. It’s kind of creepy. “Don’t worry, I’m always yer ally, Alba-san!”

“Right…” Alba says skeptically. 

“Besides,” Elf waves a hand dismissively. “I owe ya one, yeah? Ya didn’t kill me when you could’ve.”

“Didn’t you-” Another cough escapes his throat, “Didn’t you say you didn’t remember that?!”

“Did I?” says Elf, innocent. “I got a bad memory, see.”

“But then-“ sputters Alba, then cuts himself off. It’s in his best interests to ignore the strange demon, he decides. He’s getting too tired to talk as well. 

Sadly, he’s not able to ignore him for long. 

“By the way, Alba-san-“ A hand yanks at the collar at his neck, dragging him to a stop. Alba glares up at the culprit, but Elf seems unperturbed as he continues, “-ya should slow down before ya collapse. Ya ain’t gonna make it to the capital at this rate.”

Scowling, Alba slows his pace. 

* * *

Alba still doesn’t trust Elf one millimeter. But he’s not sure what to do about it. 

He tries sneaking out through the bathroom when they reach Cord’s place, but Elf just pops up outside and says brightly, “Are we headin’ off then?” 

He tries zooming off into the distance, but Elf can easily keep up with him no matter how fast he runs. 

He tries losing him in the crowds, once they arrive at the capital in late evening, but Elf trails after him without a sweat. 

So it’s reluctantly with a demon in tow that he knocks on Crea’s apartment door.

Alba isn’t really close with Crea. They’ve talked barely a handful of times, when Ros and Alba happen to visit the capital and Ros happens to feel like dropping by. That’s why it isn’t a surprise when Crea’s reaction on opening the door is to peer at Alba in confusion, peer at Elf in more confusion, then ask- 

“Alba-kun? What are you doing here alone? Where’s Sii-tan?”

“Crea-san, Soldier’s…” Alba trails off, stammering. “Soldier- he’s-” 

How… _was_ he supposed to explain this?

Crea blinks.

“Why don’t you come in for now?” he offers, and, after a moment of hesitation, Alba nods.

* * *

Crea’s a gracious host- he plops them down in the living room and even brings tea. Sitting on the couch next to the man, Alba just stares vacantly at his cup he was handed.

He doesn’t know what to say. He had been moving on adrenaline and desperation, wanting something to do, anything to do. 

(And now that he’s finally sitting down, his tiredness and hunger is starting to catch up with him. He stubbornly ignores it.)

He came all this way, but he_ doesn’t know what to say_. 

Elf appears to have no such compunctions.

“Crea-kun, ya got talent!” he exclaims, leaning back on his chair. “This tea is really good!”

Crea smiles awkwardly, scratching a cheek. “I’m glad you like it, but I’m not too sure about being called _Crea-kun _by someone younger than me…”

Elf whistles. “Yer over two thousand years old? Ya sure don’t look it!”

A pause.

“Huh?”

With a sigh, Alba shakes his head vigorously, trying to force the daze from his mind.

“Crea-san,” he says simply.

“Yes, Alba-kun?” Crea responds with a smile, ever-polite. 

“This is going to sound really weird, but please-“ His hands clench around the teacup. “Do you remember anything when I say ‘Demon Lord Rchimedes’?”

“...Excuse me?”

“It doesn’t even have to be memories,” Alba pleads, “Feelings, too. Locations. Anything!”

“Alba-kun, really, what’s going on?” Crea says, brows furrowing. 

“Just humour me,” begs Alba, “Please?”

“Um, okay,” Crea says hesitantly. “I guess I feel uh, helpless? When I think about the Demon Lord? Like I’ll have to watch him do all this horrible things and can’t do anything about it.”

“Anything else?” Alba presses. 

“Locations, I guess…” Crea shrugs helplessly, “I think of Originia? My hometown. Guess I’m afraid it’d be attacked?” He sighs. “I’m sorry, I really can’t think of anything else.”

Alba shrinks into himself, his gaze returning to stare at murky green tea. 

“I see,” Alba says, voice bitter.

What should he do now? Should he just beg Elf to take him to the Demon World after all? He glances towards Elf, but before he can say anything-

“Hey, hey, Crea-kun,” Elf pipes up. “D’ya think you’d remember more after a good night’s sleep?”

Crea cocks his head to the side. “I… can’t say?”

“Could be though, right?” 

“...I guess?” Crea raises an eyebrow. 

“Cool. So, Alba-san-“ Elf smiles, “-guess we gotta stay the night!”

“There’s no time for that!” Alba snaps, and slams his tea on the coffee table with a clatter. He makes to stand up. “I’m sorry to have bothered you, Crea-san, but I think I’ll- _yargh!_”

With a sputter, he collapses back onto the cough. 

He looks down at his legs in horror. 

They gave out on him. 

“Crea-kun, Alba-san ran over from the far side of the wastelands today,” Elf explains, “Hasn’t has lunch or dinner.”

Alba somehow musters up the strength to glare at the demon. There was no reason to make Crea worry when they were bothering him already!

“What?! Is that true, Alba-kun?!” Crea exclaims, sounding horrified, and reluctantly, Alba nods in response. 

“But I’m really fine,” Alba tries, “I’ll be heading out now, so-“

“Sii-tan would kill me if I let you starve to death!” Crea scrambles up from the couch. “Wait right here, I’ll make you a sandwich or something!”

He dashes off to the kitchen. 

Alba turns his glare back towards Elf, who meets it with a nonchalant smile. 

“I already wasted too much time at the start feeling sorry for myself,” Alba hisses, “I’m not wasting a whole night.”

“Alba-san, y’know, I’ve been thinkin’- aren’t ya being a lil too rushed ‘bout all this? There ain’t a time limit.”

“What do you mean there isn’t a time limit?” Alba snaps lowly. “If I take too much time, Soldier will seal himself away with Rchimedes!”

“Exactly.” Elf wags a finger. “He ain’t gonna die, he’s just gonna seal himself away.” He smiles widely. “So all ya gotta do if ya come after he’s done it is ta break the seal!”

Alba’s eyes widen. 

Elf’s words might not have had such an effect normally. But Alba is tired, and hungry, and miserable, and angry, and so-

“You’re right…” he murmurs, smiling a little, “If I broke the Demon Lord's seal, Soldier would come back...”

Silence. Then a low chuckle breaking through it. “Yer expression ain’t very hero-like right now, Alba-san.”

Alba’s eyes flick back towards Elf, and then, feeling numb-

“Do you think I care?”

* * *

Crea lets Alba stay the night, and so he has a fitful night on the couch. Elf disappears to who-knows-where for the duration. 

Alba kind of hopes the demon would disappear and not come back, but he pops back up fresh and early the next morning. 

“Get a good night’s sleep?” Elf asks brightly. 

“No,” Alba responds flatly, rubbing at his eyes. 

It’s been over a year since he slept alone - and for the two years before that, Ros was usually still sleeping right next to him, just in a separate bed. 

He’s honestly impressed he even managed to get to sleep at all. It wasn't much better the night before.

“Hm,” Elf hums. “It’ll get better.”

“...I hope not,” Alba mumbles under his breath. 

(Because that would mean he was starting to forget Ros.)

* * *

Alba presses Crea again once the man comes in after waking up, even as he feels guilty about it. 

(He vows to do something to make it up for him, once all this was over.)

“Do you… do you remember anything more?” Alba pushes hesitantly. “About Rchimedes?”

Crea furrows his brows, tapping a finger against his cheek. “Mm…”

After a long moment, Crea shakes his head apologetically. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Alba says, deflating back onto the couch. “This was a long shot anyways.”

“I’m probably a bad person to ask about this anyways,” Crea says with a sigh. “Whenever I think ‘Rchimedes’, I just think of Sii-tan’s dad.”

“Why’s that?” Alba asks, vaguely curious. 

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Crea says, surprise in his voice. “Sii-tan’s dad is named Rchimedes.” He laughs. “Weird name, right?”

Alba freezes solid. 

It makes sense. Alba remembers now, how much Ros hated his father during that brief meeting. How afterwards, Ros refused to tell Alba about why-

-because it related to his life as Hero Creasion. 

“How could I have forgotten?” Alba breathes. 

“Oh, Sii-tan did tell you before?” Crea says brightly. 

“No,” Alba says, a touch bitterly, then- “Crea-san, where’s your hometown? Uh… Originia?”

“Huh?” Crea blinks. “It’s a few hours’ walk south from the capital - you can follow the signage to Downal until you get close enough. Why?”

Alba smiles. 

* * *

His legs still ache from yesterday, but at least they work now. Alba half-walks, half-trots his way to Originia. 

“Hey, Alba-san…”

With an annoying demon still in tow. 

“What is it?” Alba grouches. 

“How long ‘as it been since Sion-kun left?” asks Elf, and Alba glances to the ground, gloom descending down on him. 

“About two days,” he says quietly. 

“Mm, I see.” Elf hums. “If he took a day ta make a Mana Maker and another ta get used ta using one again… we might really find Sion-kun there fightin’ Rchimedes, Alba-san.”

_Mana Maker? _Alba thinks in confusion, but out loud, he only says flatly, “That’s the plan.”

“What _is _yer plan, exactly?” Elf asks, “It ain’t like ya stand a chance ‘gainst Rchimedes.”

“I just need to stop Soldier from sealing himself away,” Alba says calmly, “I don’t need to defeat Rchimedes.”

“So ya want Sion-kun to kill him for you?” Elf says, voice going cruel. “His own father? You’re going to ask that of him, when you couldn’t even kill me?”

“No!” Alba snaps hotly. “He- he doesn’t need to kill him. He can just seal him, _without _sealing himself too. And…” Alba’s eyes flick downwards. 

“And?” Elf prods. 

“Maybe this is naïve, but…” Alba trails off into a mumble, “Soldier’s dad didn’t seem like that bad a person. I don’t know what’s going on with everything, but maybe… maybe there’s a third option.”

Elf laughs brightly. “The peaceful option, huh? That’s like you, Alba-san.”

Alba narrows his eyes at Elf. “What do you know about me anyways?”

“That ‘urts,” Elf says, ever-nonchalant. “Though to be fair, guess we haven’t talked much in this world.”

“We didn’t talk much in the Demon World either!” Alba sputters. 

“Haven’t we? Bad memory, see.” Elf taps his forehead. 

Alba just rolls his eyes. 

“Anyways, Alba-san, dreamin’ is great an’ all,” Elf says with a snort, “But yer gonna need actual power to make anythin’ reality.” 

“I know that! But…” Alba bites his lip, briefly. “I have to do what I can with what I can do.”

“What if you could do more?”

Alba looks towards Elf in confusion. 

Flashing a grin, Elf digs around in a pocket, then with a small flourish, brandishes a strange glass tube with a blue flame flickering within. 

He looks proud, but all Alba can do is raise an eyebrow and ask- 

“What’s that?”

Elf looks dejected. “It’s a Mana Maker! This is a special one too - powered by love and courage.”

“I see…” Alba says flatly. “Sorry, not interested in buying.”

“I ain’t sellin’ it to ya!” Elf exclaims, “I’m givin’ it!”

“I see…” Alba says again, in an identical tone. “Still not interested.”

“If you have this, you’ll be able to use magic,” Elf wheedles. “You’ll be able to help Sion-kun for real!”

“That sounds nice, but also incredibly sketchy,” Alba says, voice ever flat. “Not interested.”

“Argh!”

* * *

Elf’s pleading continues a good ways of the way to Originia, which just solidifies Alba’s determination not to accept the incredibly sketchy gift from the incredibly suspicious demon. 

Then, out of nowhere, the pleading comes to an end. 

“Fine, fine,” Elf says reluctantly, “If you don’t want it _that _badly, I ain’t gonna force it on you.”

Finally. 

“But,” he says, coming to a stop and peering out into the distance. With a frown, Alba stops as well. “That means we need a different plan.”

“What are you looking at?” Alba asks, squinting his eyes. He thinks he can see a couple birds flying in the distance?

“Oh, nothing,” Elf says casually, “Just at Sion-kun and Rchimedes.”

“What?!” Alba exclaims, and strains his eyes. Now that Elf mentions it, the figures do look too big to be birds... “They’re fighting already? And wait, they can fly?!”

“Ya can do anythin’ with enough mana,” Elf says simply. “Now then, Alba-san-“ he gestures towards the figures in the distance. “You can’t make it to them, not when they’re up in the air like that.”

Alba clenches his fists, desperately trying to hold back the despair threatening to overtake him. “I can try!”

“Ya can’t,” Elf says flatly. “Now, luckily, Sion-kun is far stronger than Rchimedes - normally. But I’m guessin’ that he’s still not fully used ta his new Mana Maker, and that he’s hesitatin’.” Elf squints into the distance. “He probably doesn’t wanna seal himself away.”

“Soldier…”

“So! I think that Sion-kun needs someone ta distract Rchimedes real quick-like,” Elf says brightly. 

“And I can do that…” Alba mumbles. 

“Yeah, ya can,” agrees Elf, and slaps a hand on briefly Alba’s shoulder before stepping behind him. “Anyways, good luck, Alba-san!”

Alba glances back in confusion. “Elf, wha-_aaargh!_“

There’s a sharp kick at his back, and the next thing he knows, he’s screaming at the top of his lungs as he’s shooting through the air. 

(His ribs hurt.)

* * *

He blacks out for a bit, and when he comes to, he’s sprawled out on his stomach, face smushed into the sandy ground with one, two- no, four cracked ribs. 

Alba lets out a loud groan. 

“Hero,” says a horrified voice, “What are you doing here?”

“Bein’ a distraction,” comes another voice, casual and careless. “Ya should at least seal Rchimedes’ Mana Maker away, while he’s still unconscious.”

“You’re… Elf November?! What are _you _doing here?!”

“Deal with Rchimedes first, would ya?”

“...Right.” A muffled thump, then steps, coming closer. 

When Alba peers up, there stands Ros, conflicted expression on his face. There’s a strange blue flame by his head, his hair is oddly flat, he’s not wearing his armour, but-

Alba can’t help but break out into an idiotic smile. 

“Soldier…” he says, and tries to get up. 

“Don’t move,” Ros orders sharply, then crouches down next to him. “Why are you _here? _Are you alright?”

“He should be fine,” comes Elf’s voice, “I wrapped him in a barrier before shootin’ him over here. The worst injury he’d have is some broken ribs.”

“That _better _be the worst injury he has,” Ros says darkly, then, expression softening, brushes a hand against Alba’s forehead. “What hurts?”

“Just my ribs,” Alba says reassuringly. With a wince, he struggles again to get up, and with Ros’ help, he manages to get into a sitting position. “I’m fine. Surprisingly.”

“Yes, surprisingly,” Ros says, voice going cold. “I don’t know how you figured out where I was, but what were you thinking?!”

Fury pools in his stomach.

“What were _you _thinking?!” Alba snaps, completely furious. Ros flinches back, looking shocked. Alba continues hotly, “Going off and deciding to sacrifice yourself for no good reason- leaving me _behind_-“

“Now, now.” Elf saunters closer. “Don’t be so ‘arsh on Sion-kun-“

“-I’ll get to you later, Elf!” snaps Alba, “You could’ve at least _asked _before shooting me through the air!”

At that, Ros glares at Elf, but the action makes Alba even more angry. The soldier had no right to get overprotective right now. 

“Aha, sorry, old habits,” Elf says, waving a hand dismissively. “Anyways, though, I meant what I said - don’t be too harsh on ‘im.” He smiles, the edges cruel. “You were afraid, weren’t ya? That Rchimedes would use Alba-san like-“ A hand covers his face. “-this.”

The hand waves down, and Alba blinks in confusion as Ros visibly stiffens. 

“Crea-san…?” Alba says hesitantly. 

It isn’t exactly him though. The hair is long, black with silver streaks, the eyes are red, there’s small black wings sticking out of his hair just like Rchi...

But the face looks just like Crea. 

Elf’s hand flicks back up, and his face returns to normal. 

“A thousand years ago, you were ready ta seal him away, weren’t ya? Just like you are now.”

Smirking, Elf walks towards a body sprawled on the ground, clad with a lab coat scuffed and dirty. 

Alba’s eyes zero in. 

It must be Rchimedes. 

“What are you getting at, Elf?” Ros says coolly. 

“But ya didn’t seal him away.” Elf prods at Rchimedes with a foot. “Ya killed him. Killed them both, really, and killed yerself after.” 

Ros clambers up from the ground.

“You’re pushing your luck,” he says lowly, flame by his head pulsing. 

“Don’t get me wrong! I ain’t sayin’ it’s yer fault.” Shoving his hands into his pockets, Elf smiles. “After Crea-kun desperately managed ta wrest back control of his body from Rchimedes, after the only thing he had to say was ta beg ya to kill ‘im - how could ya say no?”

Alba’s eyes widen. 

Then he hears Ros snap his fingers, and the next thing Alba knows, Elf has danced away from a small crater, Rchimedes - still unconscious in the ground - teetering dangerously on one edge. 

He knew that Creasion had magic, that he had to be strong, but- _what was that?_ Alba stares, a little vacantly, at the crater.

Elf whistles. “Did you just seriously try ta kill me?”

Ros clicks his tongue, expression dark. “Stay in one place, would you?”

“Soldier, wait-“

“I’m just reminding ya of the facts.” Elf says, sing-songy. “Ya ran away, a thousand years ago. And ya ran away again, when ya left home ten years ago. But now, here’s yer chance to make up for all of it!”

A shadow passes over Elf’s face. “So go on, Hero Creasion. Seal him away, and fall into eternal sleep.”

“No!” Alba snaps, and forces himself up, ignores his ribs grinding dangerously and painfully in his chest. He clenches Ros’ arm as tight as he can, and Ros looks down at him, expression unreadable. 

“Hero… as much as I hate doing what anyone tells me to…” Ros clicks his tongue again, “He’s right. I can’t run away any longer.”

“Why do you even need to seal him away?” Alba pleads. “He’s your dad, isn’t he? Hasn’t he just lived as a human for decades?”

Ros, looking pained, grits his teeth and shakes his head. “Even if I ignore what he did a thousand years back… he almost killed Rchi’s mother, Hero. He trapped Rchi’s father in a dimensional rift for years.” To Alba’s dismay, he easily shakes off Alba’s grip and continues, “I thought he was just a human now too. That’s why I let him be all this time, but… because of that, Rchi’s parents...”

“Then he should go to jail! Why-“

“What jail could hold ‘im?” Elf chimes in. “He’s got too many demons who’d even happily die for him - ain’t nowhere in the Human or Demon Worlds where he wouldn’t be broken out.”

“It’s just like the annoying demon says,” Ros says, ignoring Elf’s noise of offense. “Even sealing him isn’t absolute - his allies will work at breaking him out still, I’m sure. But it means the world will be safe for centuries, rather than years, or months.”

“Sol- Ros-“ Alba reaches out to clench Ros’ arm again, but Ros turns away and shrugs off the grip. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, still refusing to meet Alba’s gaze, then takes a step forwards-

“Whoops!” 

Both Alba and Ros freeze.

“What are you doing, Elf?” Ros says dangerously. 

The demon in question is holding Rchimedes up by his scruff, smile bright on his face. 

“My job,” answers Elf, then shoves his hand into Rchimedes’ chest. 

Ros lets out an aborted cry, Alba a noise of shock, but-

There’s no blood. 

In a smooth move, Elf retracts his hand from Rchimedes’ chest, now holding a glass tube, a dull blue light in it. 

A… “Mana Maker”?

He lets Rchimedes fall to the ground with a thump. 

“You…” Ros moves into a defensive pose. “You were after the Mana Maker all along.”

“Why does everyone always assume the worst of me?” Elf complains. He slips the Mana Maker into a pocket - Alba still isn’t entirely sure how he fits things in there - and smiles. “No, I just applied a little seal of my own. If I wanted a Mana Maker, I already got one - Alba-san can confirm that.”

Ros glances back at Alba, and so Alba nods hesitantly in confirmation. Ros still looks skeptical, but asks- “What ‘seal’ is this?”

“Well, I said it was my own, but that’s not exactly true,” Elf says with a shrug. “I work at a research center, see, and my boss was the one to make it.” He smiles sharply. “It completely erases magical aptitude.”

Ros stares, expression blank. “What.”

“Rchimedes here won't be able to use magic for as long as he lives,” Elf says brightly. “If he tries to use a Mana Maker, it’ll pop right out of his body.” Elf’s voice goes down to a hush. “Scary, right? Don’t worry, ya need an insane amount of mana to even make the seal in the first place - don’t think anyone but my boss could do it.”

“That’s not reassuring at all.” Ros points a finger towards Elf, eyes narrowing. “Who do you work for?”

“My boss isn’t anyone suspicious!” Elf says brightly. “He wants to make sure everyone in every world is happy, which is a lil crazy, but he’s a great guy!”

..._Every _world?

“I’ve heard enough,” Ros mutters, making to snap his fingers, but Alba stops him with an outstretched hand. Ros blinks down at him. “Hero?”

“Elf," Alba says carefully, "Are you saying... you're not from..."

Elf just grins.

“Anyways, I had my fun, the threat ta the world is dealt with-" Elf dances back a few steps. "-Imma head back and hope my boss ain’t too pissed at me for messin’ around.” He waves a hand cheerfully. “We probably won’t meet again, but don’t worry, my boss is always watchin’ over ya!”

“That’s creepy!” Alba sputters, but when Alba blinks, the demon is gone. 

* * *

Rchimedes still doesn’t wake. 

“Is he… alright?” Alba says hesitantly, pointing at the man still unconscious on the ground. 

“He probably would’ve woken up already, but I put him under a sleep spell,” Ros says, voice dismissive. 

“Okay…” says Alba slowly. “What are we going to do with him?”

Ros is silent for a moment, a conflicted look on his face as he stares at his father. 

“...I’m never going to forgive him, for what he did a thousand years back.” Ros closes his eyes. “But in this era, I’m not the one who’s been hurt most by him.” Opening his eyes, Ros looks back towards Alba. “We shouldn’t be the ones to make this decision, Hero.”

“You want Rchi and her family to,” says Alba, quiet. 

Ros nods shortly. “You still have her whistle, right? I forgot to take it from you.”

Scowling a little at that reminder, Alba nods back, fishing the whistle out from a pocket. “I do, but she won’t respond.”

“Yeah, I asked her not to,” Ros says casually, and Alba scowls deeper. “Hand it here, I’ll blow it. She can tell the difference.”

“I haven’t washed it though…” Alba hesitates. 

Ros just gives him an incredulous look, and so Alba puffs up defensively. 

“I don’t mean- of course sharing it between us is fine, but it was in my pocket! It’s probably got dust and stuff!” 

“Oh, just give it already.” Ros rolls his eyes and swipes it from Alba’s hand. He takes a breath then blows, the sound shrill. 

Almost immediately, black gate opens in front of them, and out tumbles Rchi. 

“Ros-san!” she cries out, eyes teary. She jumps into Ros’ chest with a thump, arms wrapping around him. 

Alba watches the scene unfold neutrally. He’s still mad at Ros. He doesn’t want to do the same. 

(...Maybe he can be both mad at Ros and want desperately to hug him tight at the same time.)

“Rchi,” Ros says awkwardly, “Sorry.”

“Ros-san, you idiot!” Rchi sniffs. “We said we’d find a way to deal with Grandpa together, didn’t we? Why did you sneak out like that?”

“...I thought I already had a way to deal with him,” Ros says after a pause. 

“That way was no good!” 

“Well, it worked out in the en-”

A burst of anger. 

“-Only because I found you in time!” Alba snaps. “Only because Elf was with me!”

Ros glares back at Alba. “And if anything had gone wrong, you could’ve _ died, _Hero!”

“Or ended up like Crea-san?”

Ros visibly flinches, and immediately Alba regrets everything he said. 

“I’m sorry, Soldie-”

“-Yes,” Ros just says, subdued. “That’s exactly what I was afraid of.”

Rchi pounds on Ros’ chest with small fists. “Being afraid isn’t an excuse!” She looks up at Ros. “You won’t ever do anything like this again, right?”

Alba watches carefully, waiting hopefully for Ros’ response. 

But Ros just looks away. 

“More importantly, Rchi, there’s a reason why we called you here right now.”

Alba’s fists clench. 

* * *

Rchi calls over her parents, mother and father both - her mother is a beautiful woman - demon? - that closely resembles her in colouring. 

They stand around Rchimedes, discussing in quiet, then finally, the Second glances back. 

“Creasion-san, are you sure it’s okay for us to make this decision?” The Second says nervously, but Ros just nods. 

“You’ll be more objective than me anyways,” he says simply. “And besides, you’re the ruling family of the Demon World, aren’t you? Doesn’t it make more sense for you to make this decision?”

The Second looks incredibly uneasy at those words - Alba wonders if the Demon World was going to be alright with this demon at its helm - but nods. 

“If it’s alright with you, Creasion-san,” the Second says calmly, “We think it’s best if he stays in the Human World.”

Ros’ eyes widen. “Are you sure?”

“We’re sure,” Rchi’s mother speaks up. “I’ve examined his body, and as far as I can tell, Elf November’s claims are accurate - he’s but a normal human now.”

“And imprisoning him in the Demon World would be a pain!” Rchi says cheerily, before she’s immediately shushed by her father. 

“You’re fine with him roaming free in the Human World?” Alba asks, a little surprised. 

The Second hesitates, glancing at Ros; then nods. 

“Second,” Ros says shortly. “I want to make one thing clear - I’m completely fine with whatever you decide.”

“...I understand that,” the Second says, “Our decision doesn’t change.”

Ros lets out a loud, gusty sigh. 

“I’m not sure if I completely believe that…” Ros says, narrowing his eyes dangerously - the Second twitches - “But fine.” He scowls. “I guess Nii-san would be sad if our shitty father disappeared right before his wedding anyways.”

“Creasion-san, you have a brother?” The Second exclaims, eyes shining. “And he's getting married?”

“You don’t even know him, Dad, you’re not invited.”

“I-I knew that!”

“Ah,” Alba says absentmindedly, “We never did send those RSVPs out.”

“We’re not that far from Originia, Hero…” Ros says, voice dry. “We could tell Nii-san in person that we’re going if we wanted to.”

Alba pauses. 

“Maybe after we have a talk,” Alba says, voice cool, and Ros - to his satisfaction - looks vaguely uncomfortable. 

* * *

Rchi and her family return home while Ros and him go to Originia, Rchimedes carted over on Ros’ back. 

Alba makes awkward small talk and careful excuses with Ros’ mother as Ros goes upstairs - to lay Rchimedes down in his bed and wake him up, finally. 

His ears are constantly perked though, making sure he can hear Ros moving upstairs, hear Ros’ muffled voice as he chats with his father. 

(In truth, he doesn’t want to even let Ros out of his sight, but he wasn’t quite sure how to justify forcing himself into their bedroom to Ros’ mother.)

After that, they leave, and book a room in Originia’s single rickety inn. 

After that, they talk. 

* * *

“Soldier,” Alba says quietly, sitting on one of the two creaky beds in the room. 

“Hero,” echoes Ros, sitting on the other. 

“You know I’m pissed, right?” 

“Yeah,” Ros says shortly. 

“I get that you were afraid. And that you felt guilty. But-“ Alba stares at him, frustrated. “-How could you leave so easily? Without even considering other options?” Alba’s hands clench in his lap. “Did you even hesitate before cutting me out?”

“Hero, I- of course I hesitated.” Ros murmurs. “You know, I-“ He hesitates again. “I thought about killing you.”

A beat. 

“Excuse me?!”

“Well, you know,” Ros snorts, “I figured you wouldn’t survive long without me, so I thought I’d quicken the process.”

Alba flushes with anger. “Leave that choice to me!”

“...Sorry. That was a joke.”

“Ah,” Alba says flatly. “It wasn’t a good on-”

“-The real reason I thought about killing you was-”

“Wait, you did think about killing me?!”

“-You have your whole life ahead of you, Hero,” Ros explains, expression going dark. “If I left you now, of course you’d find someone new… eventually... and the idea of anyone else touching you…” His fingers sink deep into his thighs. “I couldn’t stand it.”

“...But you didn’t go through it,” Alba says carefully. 

“I couldn’t even bring myself to try.” Ros laughs hollowly. “Pathetic, isn’t it? I’m fine with punching you, whacking with you a bat, leaving you to get beat up by monsters - but my body shut down completely at the idea of hurting you permanently.”

“That’s called _ normal, _not pathetic!” Alba sputters. “Soldier, you aren’t supposed to want to kill the person-” he coughs “-the person you love.”

“Well, normally, you wouldn’t have to-”

“I’ll just take it as a win that you actually didn’t want to,” Alba mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. More loudly, he continues, “You’re wrong about that anyways.”

“About what?” Ros blinks in confusion. 

“I wouldn’t have ever found someone new,” Alba says, then smiles brightly. “I would’ve been too busy working at destroying that seal until I succeeded or died.”

Ros is silent for a moment, then-

“The seal keeping Demon Lord Rchimedes at bay.”

“Yes.”

“The seal I would've forged even though it meant leaving you.”

“Yes.” 

“Hero…” Ros says, tone conflicted. 

“I’m sorry, Soldier, but…” Alba’s eyes flick down. “I’m not as good of a hero as you think I am. When it comes down to it, I…” His throat starts to close up a little. “I… care more about you than the world. I love you more than anything, I…”

Alba remembers, just a few days ago, Ros telling him that he loved him for his ‘temperament of a hero’. But if he had no such thing-

Angrily, Alba wipes at his eyes. He didn’t mean to cry. 

“Hero- no, Alba-”

Arms wrap around him, and ah, Ros’ warmth, his smell, the tightness of the grip… Alba’s arms snake around almost automatically, squeezing him right back. 

“Alba,” murmurs Ros, “I’m just happy you love me that much too.”

“Ros…” Alba mumbles into a shoulder. 

“Honestly speaking, Hero, I was always waiting for the pin to drop, these past few years,” Ros says quietly, “And once it dropped, I thought if I didn’t do what I could, as soon as I could, I’d have to watch everyone I love be killed all over again.”

Ros presses his nose into Alba’s hair and mumbles, “But I guess it’s about time I accept you won’t disappear so easily.”

“Yeah.” Alba’s hands clench tight onto Ros’ back.

“I won’t do something like this again,” Ros promises. 

“Yeah,” Alba says again, happier this time. "Yeah."

* * *

Alba’s still a little angry at Ros, but… for now, he’s happy with a promise that it won’t happen again.

For now, he’s happy to be with Ros again.

(It’s definitely not healthy, that he could barely survive even a few days without Ros. He wasn’t always like this, he knows - when Ros got that promotion years back, got sent off to some far-off port, he was a little miserable, sure, but it wasn’t overwhelming.

It is now.)

Ros seems to be happy to be reunited as well, and just as happy to listen to Alba’s embarrassed requests.

“Soldier,” Alba had mumbled, hand flitting down to grip Ros’ lightly. “Can we… I want us to be gentle tonight.”

“Alright, Hero,” Ros had said softly.

Now, Alba swallows thickly as Ros sneaks a hand under his shirt, drags it off slowly, and shivers a little as his chest is exposed to the cool air.

The soldier presses a light kiss against his stomach, then moves to unbuckle Alba’s belts-

“Wait, Ros.”

“What?” Ros asks, pausing even as he looks a little put-out.

“Um. Are you going to take that off?” asks Alba, nodding at the flame still bobbing at Ros’ head.

“Ah, my Mana Maker,” says Ros casually. In an experienced move, he pulls off both belts at once and discards them to the side. “I wasn’t planning to, no.”

“Erm. Is that safe?”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Ros snorts. 

He leans down to peck a kiss against Alba’s lips. “I’m Hero Creasion. You think I can’t control my magic?”

“I… know you are,” mumbles Alba, gaze flicking to the side, all too self-conscious.

“Trust me, Hero, it’ll just make things easier,” Ros says, and once Alba gives a nod of agreement, he smiles brightly and shoves Alba’s pants down to his feet. 

Ros slides a hand over Alba’s now-exposed cock, and Alba bites back the small noises threatening to escape his throat at the steady friction. 

Then the other hand sneaks behind him, pushes two fingers in at once, and Alba yelps. 

(He feels loose, and empty, and his hips jerk down a little against the fingers.)

“I said it’d make things easier, didn’t I?” 

Alba flushes. “You didn’t say it’d be for...” Ros scissors his fingers, stretching the hero’s hole out far too wide, and Alba bites back a moan. 

“What else could I mean?” Ros says cheerily, still rubbing at Alba’s cock - it’s fully hard now. He flicks a thumb over the tip, and Alba squeezes his eyes shut. 

Then he feels fingers brush against his prostate, and Alba keens, the pleasure shooting through his body. 

“There we go,” Ros murmurs, and pushes a third finger in, careful to keep rubbing at that spot. 

Ros takes his hand off of Alba’s cock as he does, which was probably a good decision, considering how close he felt to coming just then.

Alba’s breathing gets rough as he helplessly shoves himself against Ros’ fingers.

“C’mon, Hero, open your eyes,” Ros prods, and reluctantly, with flushed cheeks, Alba opens his eyes. 

Ros is leaning over him, smirk on his face and blue flame ablaze, and Alba can feel his cock perk up at the sight, just as he thought it would. 

(Hero Creasion was about to fuck him.

Hero Creasion_ has _fucked him, too many times to count.)

“You like this a lot, don’t you?” Ros says, teasing. He curls his fingers in Alba’s hole, and Alba squirms. “My eyes are here, not by my Mana Maker.”

“It’s bright!” Alba objects, defensive. “I can’t help it!”

“Sure, whatever you say,” says Ros with amusement, then dips down for a kiss. 

Alba is more than happy to oblige, letting Ros’ tongue slip into his mouth, brush over his own tongue. As he leans back out, Ros nips at Alba’s lips, just a little, and Alba’s breathing feels far too heavy. 

Ros slips his fingers out, but whatever magic he was using must still apply, because Alba feels slick and loose even empty. His hips twitch.

(He _ really _wants to be filled right now, and Ros knows it too, from that smug look on his face.)

With a little manoeuvring, Ros has his fly open, and out peeks Ros’ own member. 

“Open your legs wider,” Ros orders, and quickly, Alba kicks off his pants still pooled at his feet to spread his legs as far as they can go. 

Ros hums with satisfaction, then grips Alba’s legs with his hands. 

“Perfect,” he says, and pushes in, Alba clenching his teeth as he does. Alba feels himself getting pulled up by his legs, shoved onto as much as Ros’ cock as possible, and he moans with pleasure. 

There’s some pain, as always, but it’s muted by the blissful feeling of finally being stuffed full. His arms reach up, wrap around the other hero’s neck, and then Ros starts actually fucking him, hips rocking down to grind his cock deep into Alba’s ass, and-

“Ros,” Alba pants out, and clenches, the low grunt Ros makes is music to his ears. “Ros, Ros, _ Ros- _”

“You can call me what you’d like tonight, Hero,” Ros murmurs into his ear, voice throaty as he rolls his hips again. “I’ll play along.”

Alba feels his face go ablaze. “Soldier-”

“Yes, I’m your soldier, Hero.”

“...C-creasion.”

“Yes, I’m your Creasion, Alba,” Ros says, and Alba can hear the smirk in his voice. “Creasion, huh? I thought you might go for Creasion-sama.”

A shudder shakes through his body, his legs twitching in Ros’ tight grip.

“You liked that, huh?” Ros grinds down again, hitting that perfect spot, and a high keen escapes Alba’s throat.

He babbles through the haze of pleasure- “Ros, there-”

Cooperative for once, Ros rocks his hips down again, cock grinding in so perfectly. Alba clenches tight around the thick cock, Ros panting as he does.

“Back to Ros, then?” Ros flits down to Alba’s neck, bites sharply, and a harsh breath of air escapes Alba’s throat. “Well, that’s fine too. You have all of me, Hero.” He thrusts in again. “Whatever you want, whoever you want.”

Alba jerks his hips up at that, a loud moan slipping from his throat, his mind growing even more dazed from the pure bliss. His legs start to falter, but Ros pulls him up higher, fucking him harder, harder-

“I love you,” Alba sobs out, “Ros… Soldier- I love you so much- please-”

Ros’ voice is strained, but he still manages to pant out a breathy, “I love you too,” and thrust in one more time-

The pleasure reaches its peak, and Alba comes, cock spilling all over himself.

* * *

“Soldier,” Alba mumbles later, when he’s pressed against Ros’ chest in bed.

“Yes, Hero?” 

“...I don’t think I can live without you,” Alba says quietly.

A chuckle, small and affectionate.

"I'll just have to stay with you then, right?”

Alba feels lips brush his forehead, and he smiles helplessly.

“Right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a short epilogue chapter I wanna write sometime with my headcanons on Senyuu. universe marriage customs and stuff, but I'm getting a little tired of this 'verse so it'll probably be after I finish a different one if I end up doing it after all.
> 
> Thank you for reading until here, I hope you enjoyed at least a bit!
> 
> And hit us up at the [senyuu discord](https://discord.gg/EPxGygy) if you'd like!


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